


Northern Crown

by iimplicitt



Series: Dialect of the Heart [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1940s, 1990s, Angst, Best Friends, Betrayal, Canon Divergence - Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Dark Magic, Death Eaters, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fate & Destiny, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Good and Evil, Guilt, Love, Love Confessions, Manipulation, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Post-Hogwarts, Prophecy, Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Sane Tom Riddle, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Soulmates, Suggestive Themes, The Deathly Hallows, Time Travel, Tom Riddle is Not Voldemort, True Love, Violence, Wizarding Wars (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:40:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23471830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iimplicitt/pseuds/iimplicitt
Summary: 𝘊𝘖𝘙𝘖𝘕𝘈𝘌 𝘉𝘖𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘓𝘐𝘚 - "𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒘 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒚, 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒋𝒆𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒔 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔."Delilah and Tom have traveled to the future, returning to her home which was torn apart by Tom's future self: Lord Voldemort. Their main task is simple, get to the Deathly Hallows before Grindelwald. But the path that lays after is divided in two, which one they decide to act on will decide the world's fate.
Relationships: Abraxas Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s), Tom Riddle/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Dialect of the Heart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687468
Comments: 78
Kudos: 245





	1. Epigraph

O brothers mine, take care! Take care!  
The great white witch rides out to-night.  
Trust not your prowess nor your strength,  
Your only safety lies in flight;  
For in her glance there is a snare,  
And in her smile there is a blight.   
  
The great white witch you have not seen?  
Then, younger brothers mine, forsooth,  
Like nursery children you have looked  
For ancient hag and snaggle-tooth;  
But no, not so; the witch appears  
In all the glowing charms of youth.   
  
Her lips are like carnations, red,  
Her face like new-born lilies, fair,  
Her eyes like ocean waters, blue,  
She moves with subtle grace and air,  
And all about her head there floats  
The golden glory of her hair.   
  
But though she always thus appears  
In form of youth and mood of mirth,  
Unnumbered centuries are hers,  
The infant planets saw her birth;  
The child of throbbing Life is she,  
Twin sister to the greedy earth.   
  
And back behind those smiling lips,  
And down within those laughing eyes,  
And underneath the soft caress  
Of hand and voice and purring sighs,  
The shadow of the panther lurks,  
The spirit of the vampire lies.   
  
For I have seen the great white witch,  
And she has led me to her lair,  
And I have kissed her red, red lips  
And cruel face so white and fair;  
Around me she has twined her arms,  
And bound me with her yellow hair.   
  
I felt those red lips burn and sear  
My body like a living coal;  
Obeyed the power of those eyes  
As the needle trembles to the pole;  
And did not care although I felt  
The strength go ebbing from my soul.   
  
Oh! she has seen your strong young limbs,  
And heard your laughter loud and gay,  
And in your voices she has caught  
The echo of a far-off day,  
When man was closer to the earth;  
And she has marked you for her prey.   
  
She feels the old Antaean strength  
In you, the great dynamic beat  
Of primal passions, and she sees  
In you the last besieged retreat  
Of love relentless, lusty, fierce,  
Love pain-ecstatic, cruel-sweet.   
  
O, brothers mine, take care! Take care!  
The great white witch rides out to-night.  
O, younger brothers mine, beware!  
Look not upon her beauty bright;  
For in her glance there is a snare,  
And in her smile there is a blight.

\- James Weldon Johnson, _The White Witch_


	2. Prologue

**Delilah** had never felt so broken.

As she apparated, she landed on shaking legs in the tall grass, feeling like daggers in her skin. Dried blood coated the corners of her mouth and was caked in her nose, making it hard to breathe.

Taking a step, her muscles trembled and her lungs screamed out and agony. Why must she keep fighting? What was the point? Her body was begging her to give up. Just sleep. Just rest. Rest and it will all be over.

Looking at the house, light from candles gleamed in the panes, making it looks alive and she felt like crying. It was only a few yards away yet felt like miles and miles and miles.

Delilah didn't know where Tom was, and she couldn't trust anyone. A wail left her lips, making her sound like a wounded animal as she crumbled to the ground, her fingers clutching at the earth as she convulsed and threw up.

She was sweating, her hair sticking to her neck and cheeks and she scratched it away, aggravated and her mind was a mess, not taking note how her nails tore through her skin.

Her chest was heaving, as if all the oxygen had been yanked away from the atmosphere, leaving her suffocating and alone and scared. She didn't know what to do.

_Everything_ had changed.

Delilah knew the truth and she felt like screaming until she vomited her lungs and then her heart. She wanted to stomp on it, stab it, crush it within her fingers for making her feel so terrible and desperate and lonely.

It was overwhelming, all her trust had been upended, mocked as if her feeling of betrayal was childish.

_How could he?_

Her mind chanted incessantly, making her ears ring and she pushed her forehead into the ground, gripping and yanking on her hair until her scalp burned, begging for her mind to stop talking.

_He was lying all along._

Stop talking.

_He played you._

Stop talking.

_He used you._

Please stop talking.

_He never cared._

Delilah blacked out, alone in a field, broken.


	3. Chapter One

**Landing** on a street, the loud traffic of central London greeted their ears, almost deafening. Horns wailing, people talking on their phones in an incessant chatter, performers singing and playing instruments, a plane flying overhead.

Delilah moved to step forward but Tom was stiff. Turning to him, his face was painted in the purest form of shock. Eyes wide, darting back and forth, watching people weave past them wearing odd clothing and everything was so busy.

He got a headache from the noise alone.

“You okay?” She squeezed his hand, looking up at him with furrowed brows. His own held a crease between, his mind moving at rapid pace to keep up and process everything.

He felt relief flood through him, though. London was whole, tall buildings scraped the clouds and gleamed with slick glass. Life was surrounding him. Even after the disasters of the bombs, the giant only appeared to grow.

Delilah had told him they won the war, but now he was standing in living proof that Britain had persevered.

“I’m okay.”

Offering him a smile, she began down the streets, her mental map coming back to her as they walked, like fish in a busy stream. Tom kept to her side, not daring to let her go in case he or she got swept away in the undertow.

Delilah looked at ease, she was finally back in her natural environment, after so many months she was back. Tom thought people would be giving them odd looks due to their vintage taste in clothing. But no one spared a glance, too busy wrapped up in such strange box-like contraptions.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear, “are those the phone things you were talking about?” His tone was one of genuine, childlike intrigue. She couldn’t help but smile and she nodded. “If you think that’s something, just wait till we turn down the next street.”

She was giddy, excited for him, and he raised a questionable brow. Rounding the corner, he was greeted by the large glowing signs of _Piccadilly’s Circus_ , advertising for what he could only assume were shops.

If he thought the street where they had been was busy this was something else entirely. The circle was also a place of attraction even back in the forties, but with evolution in technology it clearly gained a larger rapport.

“What’s _McDonald’s_?”

Delilah bit her lip, trying her hardest not to laugh. This whole situation was just odd. Shaking her head, she tugged him along, the two getting lost in another swarm of people. “C’mon let’s get a change of clothes and then you can eat. After we need to try to find out where the Order is located.”

They entered a clothing shop, Tom didn’t see the name but it was massive. Blinding white lights shone above them, it made his eyes hurt and he kept his focus in front of him. “The Order?” He asked, eyeing an oddly patterned shirt they walked by.

Muggles dressed so strangely.

Delilah brought them to a stop in front of the women’s section. Tom didn’t really need new clothes, sure he looked old school but it was charming in nature. She on the other hand, looked like she just stepped out of a pinup photo shoot.

“It’s a secret society Dumbledore formed, to fight Vol-“ she stopped herself, her tongue going dry. She’d almost forgotten the name was now taboo.

That could’ve been disastrous.

Imagine it, a swarm of Death Eaters crashing down inside a _Miller’s Outpost_ only to be greeted by a younger version of their Dark Lord.

Taking a breath, she began to rifle through a stack of jeans, “to fight You-Know-Who. You can’t say his name, it’s jinxed to alert the location of whoever says it… God I haven’t worn jeans in ages I don’t even remember my size.” She grumbled.

Tom looked her over before gazing at the different sizes listed on the tags, “you’re an eight.”

“How do you know?”

He shrugged and grabbed a size eight, handing them to her, “your measurements.” She blushed and nipped the pants from his hands. Yes he’s seen her naked, but to be honest she didn’t think he had paid _that_ much attention.

Leading him to a rack of shirts, she filed through him and he scrunched his nose at the crude colors and awkward angles. It was atrocious. Taking in his reaction, she rolled her eyes and set the shirt she was looking at back on the rail.

“Where were they at last time?” Tom inquired as she brought them to what looked like the men’s section and she dug through black and gray hoodies. “An old town house on the outskirts of the city, but they move every week.”

Grabbing hold of a dark gray hoodie, she held it up to her form and looked up at him, “what do you think?”

“It doesn’t seem very complimentary for your figure.”

“It’s not supposed to be complimentary asshole, it’s supposed to be comfortable.” Nonetheless her cheeks felt warm. Despite herself she wanted to look good for him, but making sure she had a fashionable outfit was the least of her worries.

She needed one more thing, though.

They walked around a bit more until they came to the shoe section, Delilah immediately darting for the red _Converse_.

“Don’t you already have a pair of those?”

“I did, but they got left behind.”

Tom checked the price and he scoffed, “I’m assuming this is because of inflation and not quality.”

“They are quality, shut up.”

“And where are you going to get this money from, by the way?” He mused as she sat down on one of the chairs that were littered around the area, taking the shoes out and fixing the laces.

Delilah shrugged, “what they don’t know won’t hurt them.” Tom smiled, it was small but it was amusing to watch how excited she was. She tried them on and they appeared to fit as she rolled up to the toes of her feet and back onto her ankles.

Grabbing her clothes, she turned to him. “I’ll be right back.”

His brows creased for what felt like the hundredth time, “where are you going?”

“The changing room,” she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Delilah turned and began to walk away, but seconds later footsteps fell in step with hers.

“What are you doing?”

“Coming with you.”

“You can’t.”

“And why’s that?”

His burnt coffee eyes held a challenge and she felt a blush raise up her neck. For someone from the forties, he was very cheeky when he wanted to be.

Rolling her eyes as if it bothered her, when really it didn’t, she looped her arm through his. As they neared the women’s changing room, it looked empty for the most part and there was no employee around to chastise Tom.

Still, she wasn’t risking getting yelled at so she hurried them along to one of the large rooms at the very end. “No rush,” he teased as she pushed him inside, Delilah scoffing at him as she shut the door behind her. Locking it, she also cast a silencing charm.

Barely having time to do so much as slip off her shoes, she felt Tom’s fingers dance across her shoulders lightly before finding the zipper on her dress. Her breath hitched, not expecting the gesture but she wasn’t going to deny it either.

His breath was hot on her neck, his knuckle lightly dragging down the curve of her spine as he tugged on the zipper. Tom pushed the fabric from her shoulders and it pooled at her feet.

Placing a chaste kiss to her neck, he mumbled into her skin, “I’m going to miss your dresses.” Before she could utter a word he stepped back and settled himself in the small chair shoved into the corner, his ankle crossed over his knee as he watched her.

Delilah felt exposed, but in the most sensual way.

Shaking her head, she grabbed the jeans and ripped off the tag before shimmying into them. Not missing how his eyes darkened as the material clung to her legs and curves in all the right places.

Perhaps modern clothing wasn’t that bad, Tom mused to himself.

Shrugging on the sweatshirt, she felt comforted by the soft material and put the converse back on. She didn’t really want to leave the dress, but she realized she hadn’t much choice as Tom stood up and took hold of her hand again.

She caught sight of themselves in the mirror and couldn’t help but laugh. There Tom was, in all his striking aristocratic glory next to her in a baggy jumper and skinny jeans. Nonetheless, she felt her old self sinking back into her skin.

Running a hand through her hair to mess it up a bit, she pocketed her wand and unlocked the door. “What’s sushi? You never explained it,” Tom asked. Delilah was about to do so when she met the wide eyes of a young teenager, the girl's eyes trailing to the discarded dress and Delilah’s still blushed cheeks.

Smiling awkwardly, Delilah yanked on Tom’s hand and practically dragged him out of the changing area, he looked oblivious and she wanted to smack him.

“It’s raw fish, seaweed, and rice,” she muttered as they made their way back onto the busy streets. His lip curled, “that sounds atrocious.”

“It’s delicious. But we don’t have time, so chips it is.” They neared those artificially golden arches and Tom took in the restaurant's name, he could smell burnt oil in the air and it didn’t seem appealing at all. Yet as they walked in, the tables were packed.

He eyed the lit up menu behind the counter, “people actually eat this rubbish?” Tom said it a bit too loudly and got some glances from the workers and she shushed him. She realized it was a bit, or a massive step down from the food he was accustomed to.

After a well placed jinx, they walked out with their free chips and Delilah led them to a small alley resting between two buildings.

Tom ate his at a slow pace, his palet getting used to the flavor but he guessed it wasn’t that bad. Still, oil coated his tongue and the salt made his mouth water yet dry at the same time.

Delilah dropped one into her mouth, the chip burning her tongue but she welcomed it and brought out her wand.

She hoped to god this worked, because if it didn’t they’d be lost. If anything, she supposed they could go to Grimmauld Place, but Hermione had told her there was a high chance the location had been compromised when Yaxley followed her, Harry, and Ron from the Ministry.

Nonetheless, it was all they had. She didn’t even know where her family was, they were also on the move, following the Order for safety’s sake.

She was about to cast the spell, but her nerves got the best of her, “I need another chip.” Tom raised a brow at her but gestured for her to take one, “do you want me to do it?”

“No,” she shook her head, chewing numbly. “It has to be from me or else they won’t come.” Then again, they had the same patronus, but they needed to hear her voice. They needed to know it was her.

Clearing her throat, she raised her wand and muttered the spell, pale moon-white light pouring from her wand and swarming to life in the shape of a greyhound.

It sat patiently, ears perked up and alert.

Tom eyed the dog with sudden realization, how had he forgotten what hers was? It had been many months since he watched her cast the spell for the first time, but still he should have remembered such a spectacle. Theirs were the same.

And his mind reeled at what that meant.

Delilah pulled her tongue from the roof of her mouth, her words feeling heavy even though she had yet to speak them. “Inform the Order; I’m here. I’m alive. I’m home and I need a bit of guidance. _Bring me home._ ” Her voice broke off in a whisper and the dog took off, disappearing off into the sky, in the hunt to deliver the message.

Tom took hold of her hand then and her head fell against his chest, her heart was thudding violently against her ribs and made her ears ring. “Are you ready for this?” He discarded the chips in a nearby bin and ran a hand through her hair, and she looked up at him.

Worry was etched into her features but she nodded, “I have to be… are you ready?”

His face lowered then and his lips pressed softly to hers, it was probably the most gentle he’s ever done so and she melted into it. The hand in her hair slid down to her neck and held her close, deepening the kiss for another moment before pulling back.

This was important, for history and for her. At the moment, if he were being honest, Tom only cared about the latter. He couldn’t mess this up. Tom knew he wasn’t going to, if he needed to get something done he would.

Admittedly, his pride could get in the way and he knew the grounds he was about to walk into had to be done so carefully, treading with cautious steps.

He was about to meet Harry Potter, after all.


	4. Chapter Two

**Minutes** ticked by, Delilah had pulled away from Tom and paced, tapping anxiously against her leg. He watched her calmly, eyes tracing the path she’d walk from a bin to the wall. Over and over again. 

Eventually she threw up her hands in exasperation, “what if they don’t come?”

“They will.”

“How do you know?” she snapped, and he refrained from rolling his eyes at her sudden attitude. He knew it was from stress. “They‘ve only just realized you’re alive, it’ll be a bit of a shock. They have to be cautious in case it’s a trap.” 

Delilah deflated a bit and closed her eyes, “right. Of course. That makes sense.” 

Leaning against the wall, he tilted his head as he observed her. “There wouldn’t be any use in telling you to calm down, would there?” Her eyes narrowed, “no there wouldn’t.” 

Tom hummed, “thought so.” 

Delilah felt incredibly nauseous, her stomach wound up in a tight knot and the back of her neck felt stiff. She also felt rather twitchy, her fingers shaking and she found if she stayed still her left leg would start to tremble. 

What was taking them so bloody long? 

The thought barely registered as there were two sudden cracks that erupted from the back of the alley. They both whipped around, eyes squinting into the shadows. Two figures were approaching hesitantly, and for a moment she saw a flash of sandy blond hair. 

“Merlin-“ the word just passed her lips as her brother sprang forward, crushing her in a hug and she let out a sharp cry both from relief and shock. 

Delilah squeezed him so tight she was sure she was hurting him, Harrison didn’t seem to mind seeing as he was returning the gesture with full force. “You’re fucking alive- jesus christ you’re actually alive.” He said in a mess of jumbled words into her hair, eyes squeezed shut. 

She laughed breathlessly and caught sight of Kingsley behind him, her smile faltered at his expression. 

“Ms Meddows, I’m going to need you to slowly come towards me.” 

Her brows furrowed and Harrison seemed equally as confused as he pulled away from his sister, looking over at Kingsley in question. 

“What do you mean, is this a security check? Ask me anything.” 

His eyes flashed to behind her and she followed his gaze, landing directly on Tom. She had forgotten he was there for a moment, too caught up in the fact that Harrison was okay. He was there, in front of her. Her mind reeled back to the cave and the false image of him being broken and hurt. 

Realizion settled in quickly, however. Delilah paled and hurriedly stepped in front of Tom, who had gained a defensive look in his eye. 

“No you don't understand-“

“Delilah that’s…” Harrison’s eyes widened as he looked at Tom, remembering how Harry had called them all down to look at the picture in the yearbook. 

“Step away from him.” Kingsley said in a calm voice and she shook her head, reaching behind her to grab hold of Tom’s hand. “Listen to me-“

“Delilah back away,  _ now _ .” Harrison’s features warped into a mix of fear and anger and he tried to reach for his sister but she dodged his hold. 

“He’s with me for fucks sake, just listen!” 

Tom on the other hand appeared calm as ever, the sudden unfold of stress between the others not bothering him in the slightest. An easy smile graced his lips as he looked at the two men, “I take it there’s no need for me to make an introduction, then?” 

Delilah squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled a sharp breath, he was unbelievable. “You really need to work on your timing,” she said looking over her shoulder at him. 

Tom shrugged impartially, “it’s a work in progress.”

When she turned back towards Harrison and Kingsley she was met with their rightfully confused expressions at her and Tom’s interaction. 

Sighing again from exhaustion, she rubbed at her eyes as she tried to piece together some coherent way to explain this. “This is going to be a lot to unpack.” 

“You don’t say,” Harrison’s tone was dry and untrusting. 

She didn’t blame him. 

“Look, once we get to the Order I’ll explain everything in much greater detail. But I want to make this clear, Tom is not You-Know-Who. He isn’t. If you don’t believe me, which is completely understandable, you can call upon Dumbledore’s portrait.” 

“Are you mental? We aren’t taking  _ him _ to our headquarters.” 

“Harrison-“

“Ms Meddows,” Kingsley cut in, his eyes intensely set on Tom even though he was speaking to her. “I don’t think you understand the severity-“

“Yes. I do.” 

Today was going to be full of interruptions, she was sure of it. 

Tom stepped around Delilah and the two men’s wands were immediately drawn. He kept his hands up, that ever present distant look on his face, “you have full reign to restrain me if it’ll make you feel better.” 

Again with the sarcasm hidden under his tone. 

Delilah wanted to smack him, she didn’t know if his seemingly easy going nature was better or worse but she sure as hell knew it wouldn’t matter once Harry laid eyes on him. 

Without a thought, light shot out in the form of a rope and bound Tom’s hands behind his back, rather tight gauging by how his jaw had clenched.

Kingsley finally pulled away from observing Tom and walked up to Delilah, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I need you to be sure about this, you know hell is going to break loose once they see him.”

Straightening her shoulders, she raised her chin and gave him a curt nod. “I understand.” 

A very small, almost invisible smile met the man’s lips, he looked tired. Giving her shoulder a squeeze he sighed, “I’m glad you’re safe. They’re going to be happy that you’re back.” 

Delilah wished she could believe that. 

They’d probably all hate her. 

They should hate her. 

Turning to Tom, he merely raised an impatient brow at her. Once they were alone later she was going to slap the absolute daylights out of him. 

Harrison then raised his wand, and a rucksack slid over Tom’s head. 

“Is that really necessary?” his voice was muffled by the fabric and her brother shrugged, knowing he wouldn’t be able to see the action. 

“Can never be too cautious. Shall we?” 

Gripping onto Tom’s arm, she also grabbed hold of Harrison and the apparated.

**Their** feet landed with a thump on whitewashed tile, the room dim due to all curtains being drawn but Delilah quickly noted they were in a kitchen. 

It looked painfully muggle, save for the magic trinkets littered everywhere. The tile was sectioned in squares and yellowed with age. The proportions of the room appeared too cluttered yet large, indicating an extension charm was used. 

Her eyes fluttered around, taking in the light brown wooden counters, metal sink and the plastic dishes cramped into the glass cupboards above. Through the middle was a very long table, more worn and had maps and news articles spread throughout. 

She glanced at the date, October 1998. 

Right, to them she’s only been gone three months. 

For her it had nearly been a year.

So much had changed, for awhile she genuinely thought she’d never see any of them again. She felt she had lost so much. 

Delilah had. 

Elio’s necklace burned against her skin and she gripped it tight with white knuckles. 

“It smells incredibly drafty in here,” Tom muttered quietly and she blinked out of her trance. Shooting Kingsley a glance, he nodded after a moment and she lifted the rucksack off Tom’s head. 

His eyes adjusted to the darkened kitchen and he bit at his cheek either in thought or disgust. Delilah couldn’t tell, probably both. 

Their eyes met, but other than that silence ensued before the clatter of footsteps could be heard approaching from the hallway. 

Her heart shot up into her throat, suddenly feeling cold and faint and she slumped against the table. Tom went to reach for her but cursed under his breath when the sharp reminder of the restraints cut into his wrists. He didn’t have the time to ask if she was alright before three people burst into the kitchen. 

Tom immediately jumped out of the way as a spell was fired at him, the light a blinding red but it wasn’t that deep of a crimson so he crossed out it being a hex. 

Probably just a stunning jinx, he mused. It was funny to him, Delilah never hesitated to knock him back with some darker magic. 

No doubt he had a mildly bad influence on her. 

Shaking his thoughts away he saw the three who had entered. A lanky red headed boy, a girl with wild hair and dark skin, and then the one who fired the spell at him. He was a bit shorter than Tom, with the world's most unkempt black hair and startling green eyes. 

He looked absolutely furious. 

“Harry Potter, I presume?” his tone was painfully casual and it knocked Delilah out of her trance. 

She was going to kill him. 

“Expelliarmus!” Harry yelled and Tom’s wand flew out from where it was holstered. He was visibly shaking and the red head quickly stepped in front of the girl protectively, his own wand out. Tom eyed it. 

Cheap. 

Either that or it was a hand-me-down, it didn’t seem to fit quite right in the boys hold. 

“As you can see I’m quite defenseless at the moment,” he turned in a short circle to flash his bound wrists. “But please do keep firing at me if it’s comforting.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Ron huffed out and went to fire something at him, shortly joined by Harry but Delilah practically threw herself in front of Tom. 

“Wait wait wait.” she rushed, her hands up with palms splayed. She was struggling to breathe, still dizzy and she was worried she was on the verge of hyperventilating. 

“One more word out of you and I swear to fucking god I will castrate you,” she muttered, only in ear shot of Tom and his lips quirked up at one side. Other than that he remained quiet.

Her eyes shot over her friends quickly, all equal mixtures of shock, horror, and anger. 

Hermione looked purely stunned, her wand out as well but her eyes were calculating as she jumped back and forth between Delilah and Tom. Watching how they interacted carefully and thought back to how they were looking at each other in that yearbook photo.

Ron was flushed red, the tips of his ears on fire and he had a grimace to his lips. Pure loathing and revenge was etched into his features. 

Delilah paled, of course. She had just jumped to defend the person who had nearly killed his sister. 

And then Harry… her breath escaped her and black dots swam across her vision. His expression couldn’t be filed under mere words. Words were too simple. The most she could muster was anger and disappointment. No, anger was dull. 

Wrath.

His eyes were burning with it. 

Her own widened, his grip on his wand looked as if it would shatter the wood but other than that he was deathly still. 

He looked like he was going to kill someone. Tom specifically, but if need be he’d go through her too. 

“Move.” Harry’s voice sliced through the air, making her hair stand up. Delilah settled her weight and gulped dryly, “Harry listen to me.” 

“ _ Move _ .” 

“Potter,” Harrison cut in, him and Kingsley’s presence becoming known again. 

“Delilah move.” 

“Let me explain-“

“Impedimenta.” 

Barely having time to register Harry throwing a stunning spell at her, she felt someone twist her around. Her eyes met Tom’s for the briefest of moments before the jinx slammed into his back and he went limp against her, Delilah catching him in her arms. Due to his dead weight however, she fell to the floor with him. 

Rolling Tom off her, she shot up to her feet and saw Harry stalk forward, who knows what spell on the tip of his tongue. He wasn’t in his right mind. He’d never kill anyone. Even Voldemort. 

Now the opportunity was right in front of him. The person who he thought to kill his parents and so many others he loved was knocked out and vulnerable and everything was happening much too quickly. 

Delilah cast a quick shield around her and Tom, the glimmer of it only seeming to fuel Harry further. She couldn’t hear properly, it all sounded foggy but Hermione was yelling something. 

Maybe Harrison was too and Kingsley was shouting something out the door. More people were stumbling into the room. 

Looking down at Tom’s passed out self reality crashed back down and her ears began to ring as she registered all the sound flooding back in. 

So much noise. 

“ _ Enough _ !” 

The roar of her voice shook the room and someone was able to yank Harry back- Arthur. It was Arthur. 

Who was still alive? A lot could happen in three months during a war. 

Arthur, Molly, Harrison, Kingsley, Harry, Ron, Hermione, the Patil twins, Ginny, George, Charlie, Fleur, Luna, Percy, McGonagall, Neville, Dean, Cormac, her parents... her vision blurred as Hermione stepped in front of her. 

She said something. 

“What?” 

Again. 

Delilah knew her lips were moving. 

“Sorry, can- can you say that again?” 

Turning, she knelt down next to Tom and brushed the hair away from his eyes. 

The room was spinning. 

“You’re going into shock.” 

Hermione’s voice cut and stabbed into her skull like a knife and her world upended as she fell unconscious against him. 

**“Where’s** Tom,” the words ripped from her dry throat as she sat up, a sudden wave of coughs violently shaking her ribs. 

Hermione appeared at her side and eased her back to lay down, the space between her brows creased with worry. She looked exhausted. 

Her friend sighed, pleating her hands neatly in her lap. “He’s still downstairs, he woke up a few hours ago.” 

“What? Why didn’t you wake me up? Is he okay?” Delilah went to get up again but Hermione shook her head, her eyes sharp as she registered the genuine worry on the blondes face. 

“He’s being questioned, he’s fine though. I’m actually surprised he woke up before you considering how powerful that spell was.” 

Delilah should’ve felt relieved but tension still gnawed at her whole body, her limbs feeling like rusted metal. Squeezing her eyes shut, her head sank back into the pillow.

“How’s Harry?” 

There was a long pause as Hermione thought it over. She could say Harry was fine to ease Delilah’s stress but she’d easily see through it. 

“I don’t know. There was a lot of yelling, he had to be pulled from the room. He punched Cormac. The only person to go anywhere near him since has been Ginny.” 

“Merlin. This is a wreck. I knew it would be bad but what the fuck was I thinking?” 

Looking over at Hermione, she saw she was picking at her nails to avoid her gaze. “What ‘Mione?” 

Sighing, she looked up and her hazel eyes were warm but always calculating. “What _were_ you thinking? No- I don’t mean like that, sorry. I’m overwhelmed with happiness that you’re alive and well and back home. I am.” Pulling Delilah up, she crushed her in a hug. Hermione still smelt like books and herbs and it made her heartbeat calm down a bit. 

“I missed you. All of you so much.” 

They pulled back and she smiled, “we did too. All of us. I’m just wondering.. why bring You-Know-“

“Tom,” Delilah corrected her without a thought. 

Hermione blinked at her, that crease between her brows returning. “Why bring him back here? That’s incredibly reckless. The timeline would completely unravel with one missed step. That’s why we had to take Harry’s wand so he didn’t do anything impulsive.” 

Delilah’s eyes widened. That no doubt pissed Harry off even further. 

“Yeah, I know.” Hermione sighed, pulling her legs up to her chest. 

Leaning back against the headboard, Delilah took in the room they were in. It was rather small, the walls painted a light grey with white sheets and there were some pictures and news clippings posted to the mirror. Clothes were strewn around though, and from the looks of it this was probably Hermione’s room. But there were also some men’s clothes scattered and she noticed a chess board on the desk. 

Her and Ron were sharing a room. 

“I have no idea where to start.” 

“Well, how was it at least? A three month holiday from the war seems nice.” It was Hermione’s attempt at a joke. It wasn’t good but she appreciated it nonetheless. 

A bemused smile tugged at her dried lips, “it was actually about a year for me.” 

Hermione’s jaw went slack. 

“You were there a whole year? All alone.”

“Not exactly.”

“Well I saw you were at Hogwarts.”

“How?”

“A yearbook I had managed to find.” 

Delilah hummed, twirling her necklace, “can I see it?” 

She nodded, waving her hand and the book flew from the bookcase along the left wall. It came to rest in her lap and it flipped open to a page. 

The graduating class of 1944.

Her eyes glanced over all her friends, then they fell on Elio. 

She stared. 

They were all laughing, not standing still for the photo. Elio’s hair was a mess from the wind and he was grinning widely as Pyrrhus shoved into him playfully. 

“Are you okay?” Hermione’s voice was soft and Delilah realized after a moment that her cheeks were warm with a few escaped tears. 

Sniffing, she snapped the book shut and tossed it away from her as if it burned. 

“Who was he? If you mind me asking.” 

“A friend. A really good friend for the time that I knew him. But he- he’s-  _ fuck _ .” 

Wiping the tears away, she pulled her knees up to her chest. “So much has happened ‘Mione. Everything changed. I had Dumbledore to help but…” 

“Dumbledore was there to help you?” The curiosity and sadness was prevalent in her tone. 

“He was but- merlin it all feels like a fever dream now.” Her mind raked through all the months, all the happy moments and all the bad and all the heartbreak and triumph. 

“Eventually he figured out the easiest and sure way to get me home was with a time turner but they only resided within the Ministry. So we as a group went down but Grindelwald’s followers were-“ she suddenly hiccuped, not realizing her breathing had picked up in pace. Her chest felt too tight, like her ribs were shrinking. 

Hermione quickly summoned a vial from a cabinet and brought it to Delilah’s lips. “Drink this, it’s a calming draught.” The liquid poured down her throat, thick and warm but it caressed the tension that had knotted up all over her body. 

After a moment Hermione asked, “Grindelwald was after you?” She also wanted to ask if that’s what happened to the boy, but due to the heartbroken expression in her friend's face she put the pieces together. 

“Yes, there was something placed on me though when I went to the Ministry for that one mission. The one I didn’t come back from. Some sort of body clock, someone sent me back in time for a reason. I just don’t know what. And Grindelwald knew I was from the future so he intercepted us and I would assume he would use me for information.” 

Hermione nodded slowly, trying to take it all in. “How does you-know… Tom fit into all of this?” 

Despite the calming potion she still felt her stomach churn. 

“He was the first person my age I met. Dumbledore enrolled me as a new student since I had shown up at the very beginning of the term. I had to get resorted and everything and was placed in Slytherin.” 

“Really? How does that work?” 

Delilah’s lips quirked up, she missed all of Hermione’s questions when she didn’t know something. It was a rarity, but amusing when it happened. 

“The sorting hat didn’t really care to explain. It just said I was needed in the Slytherin house. And Tom was head boy, he introduced me to people who made being there easier. You’d be surprised how kind Draco’s grandfather is.” 

Hermione seemed skeptical. 

Her heart sank, having to remember all her friends from this time have only witnessed one reality. 

“He really was. I don’t know what happened but he was a very genuine person. Tom, over time I’m sure, corrupted that in the original timeline.”

“The original? What do you mean, has anything changed?” 

“He has.” 

“Delilah you can’t be serious,” Hermione laughed in disbelief. Wondering if her friend had actually lost it. 

Sitting up, her eyes were set and a storm was brewing behind them. Hermione leaned back a bit, just now registering the subtle changes to the girl. 

She looked sharper, if that term could even be applied. There was a roughness to Delilah now that one couldn’t miss once they’ve seen it. Her eyes were colder than she remembered. She looked tired.

Something had shifted. 

“What happened to you?” 

“Too much. But Hermione,” grabbing her friends hands, she squeezed them and held a burning vigor in her gaze.

“He can help end all this.”

There were a few moments of quiet as Hermione seemed to recede into her mind, undoubtedly puzzling something together. 

The two parts of herself were clashing. The logical side and the empathetic part. Delilah had realized he was the young Voldemort and still appeared to care for him despite knowing everything he would be responsible for. 

That part confused Hermione immensely. How could she? Then again with her empath side she understood. Delilah had been thrown into such a chaotic situation so suddenly, completely alone and defenseless. 

Of course her mind would want to latch onto someone in order to cope with that. 

Being alone was utterly terrifying. It ate away at a person. And although it was unfortunate, it made sense the person would be Tom Riddle. His whole entire person was a mystery and she knew Delilah wouldn’t be able to resist. Despite all the consequences. The girl was only human. 

“You love him, don’t you?” 

Delilah couldn’t decipher her tone, she hadn’t the energy. But hearing someone else say it, in such clarity sent a shockwave through her. 

“I do.” 

Hermione bit at her lip, she looked incredibly confused. An odd expression not typically seen on her. “Even when you know who he becomes?” 

“He’s not- hes-“ she took a deep breath. “I didn’t piece it together right away. In fact I was embarrassingly slow about it. Took me months before I figured it out. I think i subconsciously tried to ignore it until I didn’t have a choice anymore.” 

“And even after, you still do?” 

“Hermione. He has changed, Dumbledore even said so. I know trusting my judgement is a stretch but trust his.” 

“Even a Dumbledore’s made faults-“

“He can cast a patronus.” 

Her eyes appeared to shoot out of their sockets. If there were any way to demonstrate a change of character that was surely one way to go about it. 

“That shouldn’t be possible.” 

“I know. But he can. A full corporal one too.” 

Hermione fell back on her hands, taking in this new found information. 

The young dark lord to be could cast a patronus. 

“This could change  _ everything _ , you realize that right?”

Delilah nodded sharply, “that’s exactly why we’re here. The war.. it could finally be over. Imagine it.” 

A sudden laugh broke from Hermione, it nearly sounded hysterical with how sharp it was. 

The second wizarding war, actually over. Forever. 

It sounded too good to be true. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes hi i’m not dead!! i truly apologize for such a long wait. i went through a period of where i wrote constantly and put it all out but then i burned myself out so i’ve just been exhausted and hadn’t had the motivation. but i’m slowly getting back into it. i hope you’re all safe and healthy! <3


	5. Chapter Three

**Tom** thought he had seen pure loathing during the period where Delilah hated him. Maybe she still did, it wouldn’t be surprising. He surely thought nothing and no one could surpass that sheer level of resentment. 

He was quickly proved wrong. 

This was different, the air was thick with the mingled breath of fear and abhorrence. Tom gauged their expressions as he sat quietly, bound painfully to a wooden chair in some drafty room. He tried shifting to the best of his ability, but the ropes strained against his skin with a sharp sting.

Tom supposed it was reasonable. After all, his apparent future self was responsible for the hell they were currently living in. Except now he appeared as nothing but a boy, the same age or younger than half of them. 

They had been questioning him for what appeared to be hours. A back part of his mind kept drifting to Delilah, wondering if she was awake and okay. He was partly concerned she’d start bleeding out again, not trusting anyone there to help her properly but himself. 

Over time he supposed he’s taken on a duty of care for her. 

A headache was blooming, the questions being relentless. Kingsley was there and was accompanied by a man with red hair, littered in scars. After a few moments assessing the aged wounds he quickly drew the conclusion it’d been from a werewolf attack. 

Curious.

The questions were rather dull in his opinion. 

Who are you? 

He felt that was obvious. 

How did you come into contact with Delilah Meddows?

That one was vaguely complicated. 

What do you know of the resistance? 

From his perspective they looked like they were losing, which was a tad concerning. They seemed ignorant to the fact, blinded by misplaced optimism. Sure they had hope, but that’s anyone. Hope doesn’t win wars, despite all those silly little stories parents tell their children about at night. 

Do you know who Albus Dumbledore is? 

Unfortunately.

Et cetera, et cetera. 

Dull. 

He answered them swiftly, not having to mull it over considering none of their inquiries dug at any of his underlying motives. He’d leave the task of telling them about their mission involving the Deathly Hallows up to Delilah. 

The door opened, only then did Tom notice how silent outside seemed to be. Wards were put up, extensively. Walking in it was Harrison, he was tense but determined and his eyes didn’t draw away from Tom. 

“Anything?” 

“This is a rather tedious situation, we’re still treading on where to even begin.” 

“Can we get Meddows down here?” Bill asked. He seemed young but painfully worn down with stress. 

Harrison shook his head, “we’ll have to wait a bit longer, Granger said she’s still out. There’s something wrong with her though-,”

“Perhaps I can enlighten you on the matter?” Tom suddenly spoke, causing the three men to whirl around. 

They looked immensely placid at the notion of getting insight from him. Their body language was stiff, guarded, he could see their hands itching to grab their wands and hex him. Kill him even, if they were to be so bold. 

Tom needed to navigate this clearly. Somehow he needed to not necessarily gain their trust- that he knew would be impossible given their time crunch- but to at least prove his point where his loyalty lied. 

Which was with Delilah, and if he were to be so generous, by default it lied with the Order. 

There was a fine line between self preservation and just being ignorant. Clearly the other version of himself, Voldemort, failed to recognize that. He recalled something he’d read in a book one late night in the library on muggle philosophy; allegory of the cave. Yes, that was it. He wondered if that’s what was happening within this pathetic little resistance. Were they choosing to ignore the obvious facts in front of them so they wouldn’t have to deal with the crushing weight of their impending failure?

Or perhaps he was just severely pessimistic on their behalf. 

He sighed through his nose, ignorance was a safety net he couldn’t afford. 

“How could you help us? You’re  _ him _ .” Harrison bit out, his jaw clenching so tightly Tom thought it would lock. 

“Do I look like him?” He tilted his head to an angle, his hair falling in his eyes and in the dim lighting he really did appear just as an eighteen year old boy. There was a weight behind his eyes Kingsley didn’t miss though, Tom was tired. The exhaustion was nearly obvious. But under all that there was just a hint of unease that would even be seen as fear. 

For himself? The older man wasn’t sure, but in the back of his head it said it was for the girl upstairs. 

  
  


**Delilah** awoke with a groan, burying her head deeply into the pillow until she was forced to take a breath. There was a small laugh and she twisted around, blowing hair out of her eyes to see Hermione sat at her desk.

“How long have I been out?” 

“Nearly a day.” 

“Christ,” she sighed as she turned to lay on her back, rubbing at her eyes that were still heavy with sleep. When she remembered Tom was downstairs, she forced herself to sit up and tried to best shake off the dizziness she felt. 

Clearing her throat, her mouth was painfully dry and she was about to ask for some water before Hermione was already at her side with a glass. She gave her a warm smile and thankfully took the drink, the cool liquid sliding down her throat with a generous gulp. 

“He isn’t being tortured, is he?” 

Hermione sat down, choosing her words carefully. “Unless relentless questions count, then no. They haven’t let Harry anywhere near him. In fact they sent him out on some field work to let off some steam.” 

“Harry doesn’t exactly think things through when he’s angry,” Delilah said and Hermione’s eyes met hers sharply. Though it wasn’t said, she got the hint. She really wasn’t the one to talk. After all she brought Tom Riddle to the future. 

“You know you’re going to have to explain everything to everyone eventually, it might as well be now.” 

“But-“

“Delilah if you wait it’ll only be worse, or they’ll force you to talk. They won’t want to be patient either. You owe everyone answers.” 

Biting her cheek, she wanted to roll her eyes but refrained. “Why are you always right?” 

Her friend smiled, “I’m not  _ always _ right.” 

“Well you’re honest, they usually go hand in hand.”

“My honesty has gotten me into a lot of trouble lately.” 

Delilah’s brows furrowed, “what do you mean?” 

Licking her lip, she lifted her legs onto the bed and hugged them to her chest. “Well there’s been a lot of arguments on how we were to move forward these past few months, since the ministry mission fell through. I had some ideas that might be a bit too progressive for everyone right now. Honesty isn’t always the most diplomatic approach.” 

“What did you suggest?” 

There was a heated pause as Hermione picked at the hem of her jumper, “that we stop taking prisoners.” 

She got the hint that wasn’t all, “and?” 

“Don’t think of me as terrible.”

“‘Mione I’m the last person who would ever think that.”

“Well, I mean to put it bluntly, during battles or if any sympathizers with the Dark Lord fell into our presence… I suggest the order to forcefully stripinformation or kill on sight.” 

That took Delilah by surprise, causing her to stare at Hermione blankly for a few seconds. Hermione covered her face, “I know it sounds terrible but-“

“No it’s not that,” she cut in, finally getting her wits about her. “We’re desperate. The world is. But I think you’re right, it’s too much of a step forward for them to consider I think. Even if they need to, I don’t know how everyone would be convinced. More than half of The Order is set in their ways and I don’t think they’d be willing to stray away from their morals.” 

“Exactly! Merlin, that’s so refreshing to hear,” Hermione fell backwards and her hair fluffed out around her. “I can’t even tell you the amount of screaming matches Ron and I had at each other over this, it was awful. He made me feel so disgusted with myself for even suggesting it. But think how many lives we’d save.” 

Right, how many lives they could save. With Tom now on their side, or at least she prayed to the fates that he truly was, they could save thousands. 

“Hermione?”

“Hm?”

“How does this change things? With Tom, I mean. Him being here?” 

Turning to perch herself up on her side, Hermione’s brows furrowed as she thought it over. 

**Everyone** gathered in the downstairs kitchen, some sitting and some standing, staring at Delilah expectantly. 

Who of which was wringing her hands nervously behind her back, partially rocking back and forth on her feet. Hermione stood at her side, her gaze heated as she looked at Harry as a silent ‘behave’. 

Looking off to her left, Tom stood leaning against the wall. He looked annoyed as far as she could tell but he kept his expressions at bay. They’d put some sort of magic dampener around his left wrist, the silver material looked as if it was melted into his skill. It essentially limited his abilities to only basic magic, and they had taken away his wand. 

Personally, he didn’t think it was necessary. But he understood. If it helped them sleep a little easier he didn’t blame them. 

Clearing her throat, she looked at everyone again before starting on her long, and surely confusing story of what happened to her. 

Throughout her explanation, there were many furrowed brows, sounds of exasperation and shock, disgust, some small laughs, and she didn’t even know how many questions were thrown at her. Hermione tried to help, but no one would even look in Tom’s general direction. 

Despite himself he wasn’t used to being so acutely ignored. He was typically always the center of attention, or close to it. 

Everyone appeared to be actively trying to ignore his existence. 

Harry wasn’t giving much away of what he thought, however at every mention of Dumbledore there was a slight stirring of some harbored emotion in his green eyes. 

Finally, Cormac asked that question that was weighing in everyone’s hearts. 

“How can the future  _ not _ be changed?” 

Hermione stepped forward, beginning on her long explanation of her theory about how she believed time was a forward progression. “This had to have already happened,” she finished with. 

There was a long pause as everyone tried to comprehend this when Tom shook his head, “it can’t have.” 

Everyone flinched, turning to watch him careful and some had even grabbed their wands. One of them being Harry, a spell to render him unconscious surely on his tongue.

Tom ignored them all, his eyes trailing to Delilah for a moment before shoving his hands in his pockets and turning to them all. He spotted one girl with white hair and the oddest of earrings, they looked like radishes. 

She didn’t look at him with anger or fear, he couldn’t explain it. She had a sort of passive, dreamy state about her. It was mildly unsettling. 

“I don’t believe anything is set in stone, time isn’t a strict line. We know that because time travel is possible and we’re able to move back and forth. Although Miss Granger’s theory could make sense on a series of different levels, there’s also a high probability of contradiction. No choices can be predicted.” 

Tom took a pause, gauging their reaction to see if everyone was following along. For the most part they were, but there were still a few confused looks. Most also seemed reluctant to even be listening to him. Nonetheless he continued. 

“What if we’ve split the timeline? Coexisting, but now separate? What the final result is, is still up for debate now that there’s new factors to take into account. Perhaps in the original where Delilah didn’t get sent back in time, the ‘original’ history took its course. But now…” he gestured to himself. “You have a new card to play.” 

“Brilliant.” Hermione blurted before she thought better of it, catching a glare from Ron. 

“In reality though, we have to recognize we won’t truly know. We can’t know if this was always meant to happen or not. The events are already taking place now, we can’t back track them, not in our reality.” Tom’s eyes trailed to his clever little witch again, his lips quirking up to the side though no one noticed but her. 

“Anything can happen.” 


	6. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i realize i didn't add a note last chapter explaining my absence, and i apologize. but i'd like to assure everyone reading that i'm well, i had just lost the motivation to work on this story for awhile and i concentrated on multiple different smaller works i had. i apologize for the long period of silence, but i thank everyone who is still around to read my work! if any of you were curious or have questions, i'm way more active on wattpad and i do update more regularly on that app. my user is the same as on here!!

**After** the meeting, Delilah only had mere moments to talk to Tom and she wasn’t keen to waste any time. As many members discussed what had been presented to them, she rushed over towards him and restrained herself from reaching out to hold his hand. 

Instead she glanced down at his wrists, “how are you coping with that?” He sighed through his nose before looking down at her, “how do you think? I feel like a squib.” His eyes turned away again and she followed his gaze, landing on Harry who seemed adamant on ignoring both of them.

“He won’t speak to me," she muttered.

Tom hummed, his hand twitching in the reflex of wanting to grab hold of her but he kept his fist clenched at his side. “You should go and talk with him.”

Turning back to him her lips quirked, “it’s not that easy.”

“It was with me. You’re stubborn, it was hard to avoid you.”

“Hilarious.” 

His eyes glimmered for a moment before gesturing back towards Harry with his head, “go on.”

Delilah didn’t have time to oppose as Kingsley made his way over with Bill and they led Tom out of the room, undoubtedly to bound him again and ask him more questions. She watched him till his form disappeared around the corner before turning to find Harry. 

Her shoulders slumped when she realized he’d left the room. 

Ginny was suddenly at her side, making the girl flinch and the red head rested a hand on her arm. “He went up to his room, I calmed him down for the time being so I recommend you talk to him now.” Her voice was stiff and she wasn’t meeting her eyes.

Delilah’s heart dropped, she hadn’t even thought of how Ginny was taking this. Seeing Tom again. It didn’t occur to mind that he was the one who possessed her back in her second year. Noted Delilah hadn’t known at the time, she didn’t find out till this past year. Still, she should’ve remembered. It was selfish of her. 

“Ginny-”

“Go talk to Harry, I’m fine.” With a tight smile, she left her standing there. 

**Licking** her dried lips, she took a breath before knocking on his door. There was no answer and she closed her eyes, resting her palm against the wood. “Harry… Harry it’s me. Please open the door.” 

Nearly two minutes of silence. 

“Harry-”

The door swung open and her eyes blinked in surprise before guilt overtook her features. He was angry at her, that was certain due to the rage in his green eyes. But he was containing it, keeping his face as neutral as he could. Though his jaw clenched. 

“Can I talk to you? Please?”

He stared at her for a moment before his gaze shifted to the ground, he nodded once and stepped aside. 

Slowly she entered, wrapping her arms around herself as her eyes flickered around the room. She smiled a bit at the sight of Ginny’s things, one of her Weasley jumpers hung on the back of a chair. 

The door clicked shut behind her and she turned, Harry was leaning against the door with arms crossed. 

“What is it?”

Delilah opened and closed her mouth several times. She knew apologizing seemed pointless, but she did it anyway.

“I’m sorry.”

She could tell he wanted to roll his eyes. 

“Harry, I am sorry. I don’t know how to fully encompass everything, but I am. And if it could be any other way, of him not being here, of it not having to have come to this, I’d wish for it in a heartbeat.”

At that he scoffed, his eyes narrowing into a glare behind his glasses. “I saw how he jumped to your defense. How you jumped to his...I saw how happy you looked in that photo - how?”

“What photo?”

“Hermione discovered an old Hogwarts yearbook from the forties, you were in it. Just graduated. How was that, might I ask? Must’ve been nice. Was a bit of a shock seeing you so happy and you know, alive.” His tone was of bitter indifference and she squeezed her eyes shut. 

“Harry-”

“I don’t want a full sob story, Meddows. Just tell me why.” 

Her heart hurt with the sting of his words. But she didn’t blame him. If she were in his shoes she’d never forgive him. 

“He’s not You-Know-Who.”

A dry laugh left his lips and he shook his head, “fuck… are you serious right now?”

“He’s not, he isn’t.” Her voice was steady and she met his gaze coolly. “He’s dedicated himself to helping the Order, he’s willing to give information that will benefit us in the war effort. He can even cast a patronus, that isn’t supposed to be possible-”

“I don’t give a damn if he can cast one, Meddows. That person, that thing down stairs,” he took a step forward and gestured towards the door, venom on his tongue. “Is Tom Riddle, whether you accept it or not what he’ll become. What he’ll _always_ become.” 

Delilah gulped, ready to fire back to try to make him understand but he shook his head and stepped closer. 

“You care for him, I can see that. And I won’t shy away from saying it disgusts me. But I know I won’t change your mind, you’re as stubborn as I am.” His jaw clenched as he tried to read the pain etched onto her features. He didn’t even recognize her. “Tom will turn on us, he’ll turn on us all. And he’ll turn on you. Whether or not it’s soon or down the line. God help you when you realize I’m right. God help us all.” 

He looked at her for another hard moment before walking back to his door and opening it, “you can go now.” 

Delilah didn’t move for a moment, trying to grasp what he had just told her. 

“Will you ever forgive me?”

Her voice cut through the air and it sunk into Harry, gripping at his heart with sharp claws. Delilah had always been a friend to him. They weren’t terribly close, not like he was with Ginny, Ron, or Hermione. But she’d always been there, willing to go to the ends of the earth if it meant helping him. 

Harry had always been thankful to her for that. But now he wondered if she went too far, losing herself in the process and falling into the likes of Riddle. Of Lord Voldemort. And it all led to her trying to help him and the world.

It all tied back to him. 

Part of himself said not everything was about him, but a large portion of this war was. 

He returned her gaze heatedly, “Delilah,” he began slowly and took a breath. 

“I’ll only begin to trust him if he helps kill himself. Even then that won’t ever be enough. Nothing ever will be. He-”

He killed his parents.

The sentence was left unsaid but it hung in the air. 

**The** next day they were sat in the kitchen, Tom only allowed out of his bonds if he was supervised by a higher ranked Order member. It became clear to Delilah that they didn’t trust her anymore. At least not to the extent they did before. 

She was emotionally compromised. 

Tom and her made strained conversation, not exactly being able to talk of anything of importance with so many burning ears. She watched him as he picked at the bracelet on his wrist. 

“Is it uncomfortable?”

“I can hardly feel it, but magically it makes me feel sort of numb.”

Delilah offered him her best smile, she knew this was hard for him. Tom prided himself in his magic, it was his entire life and it had been stripped away. He was handling it remarkably well. “I can see about getting them off soon.”

He shook his head, “it’d be pointless, they’d never agree. I’m seen as a threat. I’m surprised they haven’t killed me yet.”

“It’s not in the Order’s nature.”

Tom looked at her for a moment, “no, it’s not. But it’s in yours.” 

She bit her cheek and glanced down at the table, messing with her fork since she’d lost her appetite. 

Suddenly the front door banged open and everyone flinched, wands at the ready before a voice rang out. One that was familiar and missed and her heart suddenly warmed. 

“Delilah!” at the sound of Blaise’s voice she shot up, her chair toppling over. 

Before she could make it to the doorway, he appeared in front of her, looking the same as ever and a grin broke through her features. Blaise stopped at the sight of her, a halting moment of joy and shock running through both of them before they broke out into a laugh.

He picked her up in a hug, spinning her around and the two talked over each other in a rush of incomprehensible words. 

“Merlin, you’re alive.” He breathed out, holding her head into his neck as his eyes closed in relief. Delilah squeezed him tightly once more before he set her down. She was smiling but then her brows furrowed as she looked up at him. “How did you-”

“A lot changed in the time you were gone, it was only sooner or later before I was approached by the Order since I wasn’t sworn to You-Know-Who.”

At the mention of his future self, Tom shifted in his seat. He couldn’t help the jealousy that pricked at his sides.

He hadn’t been able to touch Delilah freely since they got there. Something a few months ago he would’ve never believed he’d miss. 

It was a longing inside of him he wasn’t used to. And now with his wand and most of his magic gone, the absence of her was felt even deeper. 

Delilah had become a much bigger part of him than he’d ever anticipated. 

He didn’t know whether or not to hate himself over the fact, but he knew he needed her. 

Tom clenched his jaw when something told him that he was even desperate for her. 

He needed his magic back, without it his mind was wandering much too far. There were fewer distractions and everything just seemed to be Delilah.

Delilah. Delilah. Delilah. 

Last night he woke up muttering her name.

She was living stubbornly in his head and his heart now. 

And he had no more defenses to push her out. 


	7. Chapter Five

**Hearing** the noise, Harry made his way downstairs and nodded in greeting to Blaise. The two weren’t anywhere near friends, they never would be. But he recognized they were on the same side. 

When his eyes landed on Tom however, his jaw clenched and he turned back around to go into the war room. 

Tom sighed, not surprised, but he wondered if there was any way he’d be able to talk to the boy. An apology would never suffice, he knew that it would probably only get himself hexed. He tried to insert himself into Harry’s mindset. What would he do if the person responsible for all his pain was suddenly brought forth, but he couldn’t enact revenge?

He would go mental, and if he were being honest, he’d act out regardless.

He wasn’t able to connect further beyond that. His future self had killed Harry’s parents.

Sure, his own were dead, but he was responsible for both of their passings. He killed his mother in childbirth and murdered his father. For years he thought they might be the source of his suffering, or what he thought might be suffering. It was hatred. But after he killed his father he still felt it deeper in his bones, it’d be with him forever. The feeling even stronger since he’d split his soul. 

Part of him wondered if just trying to talk to Harry would be a good idea, perhaps try to convince him he was there to aid the Order. He shook his head, Tom knew that wasn’t what the boy wanted. 

Harry wanted him dead. 

Tom’s eyes returned back to Delilah and this boy who she apparently knew, it was obvious they were close. Blaise was his name, and his eyes burned a bit when he noticed his hands rested on her hips for a moment. It wasn’t a long interaction between the two, but it felt like it. 

It was clear she missed him, and that part at the back of Tom’s head wondered if they used to be something more. Their body language was apparent. 

His jaw clenched at the thought of them being previous lovers. This jealousy felt like a disease in his chest, he’d never been jealous before. Not over someone else. He wanted this sensation gone and tried to reassure himself Delilah was his. He probably knew her better than anyone else, surely he’s seen more of her than anyone in this pathetic little resistance of theirs.

They’d shown each other their true colors long ago.

Delilah was still hiding a part of herself from them, that dangerous part that could reign hell on anything beloved. 

To them she was just another fighter in the war, collateral damage. Yes, he knew they cared for her. But there was only so much room for keeping personal relationships and grieving during a time like this. 

They had thought she died and moved on. To Tom he thought with little difficulty, which he took issue with. 

He snapped out of his when he felt her eyes on him. 

Blaise was staring at him, “so that’s… _him_.”

Delilah nodded, watching her friend closely. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, Blaise was always careful with his words. Back at Hogwarts he never talked much, he was the mysterious one in Malfoy’s inner circle. It was a surprise to everyone when it became known they were friends.

No one ever found out about their few escapades of having sex, though. 

She'd like to keep it that way.

Finally he looked down at her, “can we talk in private?”

Delilah looked to Tom for a moment, they barely had any time with each other now. But she hadn’t seen Blaise in months. “Yeah, c’mon.”

Tom’s stomach churned a bit as he watched them leave, not a moment later Harrison and Bill yanked him up to his feet by his arms. 

“Free time’s over.”

He was led down the hall, but when they passed the room he’d previously been held in his brow rose. Instead of being intimidated he was rather curious, wondering what they could possibly have in store for him. They turned and Harrison opened a door, looking down it was an old set of stairs and darkness could only be seen below. 

He was shoved down the steps harshly, nearly losing his footing but he kept himself up right. 

Once they reached the bottom, he was then shoved forward, Tom caught himself only when his shoulder rammed into something hard and cold, the ache shooting up his side and he exhaled a breath through his nose with a grunt. 

Seconds later there was the sound of creaking and the echo of metal slamming shut. A light then flickered and his eyes flickered around his surrounding. Annoyance and a bit of anger creeping up the base of his skull when he noted he was placed into a cell. Though it more resembled a cage. The metal rods cemented into the middle of the floor and there was only a singular light above him. 

To his left there was a mat, a bucket he could only assume was his bathroom, and an empty desk. 

He wasn’t alone. Harrison, Cormac, Bill, Kingsley, and that Ron boy were in the room, watching carefully as if he were an animal. 

“I suppose my being in here is a comfort?”

As soon as he spoke he stilled, his voice was trapped within the cell, bouncing around him like a ricocheted bullet and only seemed to get louder before eventually dwindling. They couldn’t hear him, he was trapped alone with himself. 

Kingsley then waved his wand and Tom saw a glimmer ripple over the cage. 

“You will be confined here until further notice.”

“Did you approve of this?” Tom asked, he wanted to ask if Delilah knew about it but thought best against it. He could only hope she'd never approve of anything like this, he would've been able to tell if she was keeping something from him.

Then again, she was able to keep his own fate away from him.

He couldn't help the doubt chewing at his stomach. 

_Did she know about this?_

“It was voted upon, for the safety of the Order, I’d say this is minor at best seeing as you pose a threat to the resistance.”

Tom hated this, he hated all of it. But he knew there was no way to change their mind. So instead he gave them a slight smile, just to throw them off, and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Very well.”

Kingsley considered him for a moment. Looking at Tom he knew he wasn’t the monster they were currently fighting, not yet at least. He was just a boy, the same age as Harry. But he couldn’t take any risks, he knew the potential danger Tom possessed if they weren’t careful about this. He sighed through his nose as he thought about Meddows, they’d need to question her soon. Something wasn’t sitting right. 

“You’re young, foolish, and dare I say it you have the potential to save us.” 

Ron looked like he was about to argue but Kingsley held up his hand. He stepped closer to his cage, eyeing Tom with a calm disposition. In some way the man reminded Tom of Dumbledore. 

“But heed this young man, all that power you have. The power that we stripped from you-”

Tom’s fists clenched at this behind his back. 

“It is derived from rage and pain, such a weighty amount no man your age should ever have to carry. But that power is the weakest power a man can have.” 

A heated silence passed between them before Kingsley bowed his head and stepped back, that glimmer passing over the bars again and Tom was trapped in his own prison of silence. 

Kingsley said something to Bill but he wasn't able to discern it, only he caught the smirk Harrison sent his way before they all left.

_Please_ , he begged to no one but himself, _please tell me you had nothing to do with this._

What if it was all a lie? What if she had preformed so well she even fooled him. Roping him to the future so he could be detained, controlled, killed. All for the sake of the war. 

_Please tell me you didn't know._

What if she'd used him? It would be her greatest revenge for all the suffering he would cause her and the world in the future. 

Delilah had made him care and - he felt dizzy - perhaps she exploited his new disadvantage. 

Tom felt he couldn't put it past her. He knew she was capable of many twisted and great things. She's killed before, how is this any different? How is this any worse?

He couldn't breathe. 

Falling against the bars, he sucked in air harshly but it felt like nothing was getting in. 

Was he having a panic attack?

"Delilah," he breathed hoarsely, her name swirled around him in the air, trapped around him.

Tom had never been loved, he didn't know what it properly looked like. How was he supposed to know if her love was true? Yes, maybe he has seen her true delf. Maybe he's the only one who has, and that version of her could be capable of this. 

He couldn't master his doubt like he always had been able too. 

All his rules, all his guidelines that he followed to protect himself... he'd broken all of them for her. 

Tom slid to the floor, heaving with this crushing realization he didn't want to be true. 

He couldn't block the thoughts out, not without his magic.

Trapped with himself was possibly one of the worst things imaginable to him right now.

_I shouldn't have come._

**Blaise** and Delilah had been sitting in the small study at the safe house, though it was a bit larger due to a charm to house more books on advanced healing. They’d just been catching up on simple things, such as Blaise’s recruitment and Delilah talked about a few things from the past. 

“You remind me of Cain,” she mused, curled up on one of the chairs as he sat across from in another, his back to the fire making him glow. 

“Is he wickedly charming?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She mused, but her smile fell as she thought back to them all.

“When did you get that necklace?"

At him mentioning it, it seemed to burn into her skin. “Oh this, it was a gift.” She forced out, suddenly feeling as if she couldn’t breathe. Blaise quirked a brow, “from a boy?” He teased but his playful manner dropped at her crestfallen expression. 

“Was he the one who…?”

Delilah nodded mutely. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Sniffing, she shook her head. Trying to get the image of Elio’s bloody smile out of her head. 

“How’s Draco?”

Blaise leaned back in his chair, his eyes flickering as he thought back to his best friend. 

“I rarely see him.”

“Still? How long has it been?”

“Sixth months.” 

“Is he… do you if he ever got the mark? I know Harry had his suspicions back in sixth year.”

He sighed through his nose, looking at her pointedly and her heart sank. 

“No.”

“He didn’t have much choice.”

“He couldn’t have tried to run?”

“Delilah, they had his mother. You know he’d go to hell and back for her. If he would’ve delayed or refused they would’ve used her to get to him. You-Know-Who made sure of it.” 

At the mention of Voldemort they both stiffened and Blaise's eyes trailed to the door before looking back at her with a heavy gaze. 

“How could you bring him back here?” 

She could tell he was having a difficult time keeping his voice void of judgement. 

“He can help us.”

“How do you know that?”

“I trust him.”

“He’s Tom Riddle,” exasperation was creeping into his tone, blinking at her in disbelief. 

Her eyes cast down as she messed with the sleeve of one of Hermione’s jumpers she let her borrow. 

“I trust him.”

“That’s not an answer, not one I’ll accept. What aren’t you telling me?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her forehead against them. She was so tired. “Not tonight, Blaise.”

He stared at her for a long moment before she sensed him get up, flinching when he rested a hand on her shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but she felt as if she could read his thoughts.

Blaise didn’t know her anymore, not really.

The only one who did was downstairs. 


	8. Chapter Six

**After** she worked up the courage to leave the study, Delilah headed back downstairs to the kitchen. Tom, that was the only person she wanted to see right now. 

Of course she missed Blaise and was elated with seeing him again. But she hadn’t realized the toll it would take on her. She hadn’t seen him for nearly a year and it almost felt as if they were strangers. Strangers who once knew each other, but not any more. There seemed to be a wall between them she hadn’t the energy to break it down. 

Stopping in the kitchen doorway, his seat was empty. 

“Dean?” she called.

“Hm?” He was currently stocking up the cupboard with potions.

“Have you seen - where did they take him? Back to his room?”

“I would assume so.”

“You didn’t see them?”

He sighed and turned to look at her, the war had aged him. His eyes were heavier than she remembered and there were a few new scars littering his features. 

“I don’t exactly want to look at him.”

Her heart hurt at what Tom being here was doing to everybody. She knew she wouldn’t ever get them to understand that he wasn’t like that creature yet. Voldemort robbed all of them from their youths. She didn’t blame them. 

A moment of silence passed and she gave him a mute smile and nod before turning around. Bill and her brother are typically the ones who move him, so she headed to her Harrison's room.

Delilah would just head to where he had been being held, but no one would tell her which room. She tried searching all of them the night before but came up fruitless, there were probably wards around it to keep people away. Most notably her and Harry. 

Annoyance flickered when Harrison’s room was empty, as well as panic due to her mother being sat at the desk inside. Quickly and quietly, she shut the door and continued down the hall. 

She’d been successful in avoiding them for the most part and she preferred to keep it that way. Delilah had never been fond of her parents, and she knew they didn’t particularly like her either. They loved her, yes. But didn’t like her. 

Eventually she knocked on Hermione’s door, who thankfully answered a few seconds later. 

“Have you seen Harrison?”

“He’s out on a scouting mission, for a new safe house location.”

“Do you know when he’ll be back?”

Hermione’s brows furrowed, “no, why?”

Delilah peaked around her and her friend shook her head, “Ron’s in the war room with Harry, it’s okay.” Stepping aside, she let the girl in the room and Delilah took to sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Hermione, please answer me truthfully.”

Giving her a concerned look, she sat next to Delilah and rested a hand on her shoulder. “What is it?”

“Do you know what room they’re holding Tom in? Please, I just need to see him for a few minutes and then I’ll go. No one will know I was there.”

“Delilah you know I can’t-”

“So you know where he is then?” The desperation in her voice was nearly painful. 

Hermione bit her lip but shook her head, “I don’t know what room, I just know Kingsley is in charge of his holding. Where Tom was kept was under strict need to know. I don’t blame them for not telling me, Merlin knows Harry would’ve found some way to get it out of me.”

Delilah shoulders slumped, but she nodded. She knew he’d be alright, he could handle himself. Besides, the Order wasn’t cruel. Surely they weren’t torturing him. The past few times she’s seen him he appeared alright. 

She needed to get a hold of herself. The clock was ticking and they had a job to do, she couldn’t wait around until they decided to let Tom out of his room again. 

“I need to speak to Ron and Harry, all three of you. It’s important.”

  
  


**When** they entered the war room, Harry only spared Delilah a glance before looking down at the multiple maps spread out across the table. 

She immediately regretted this, it was always easier with Tom by her side. The weight of his absence felt crushing now - she felt stupid. 

Hermione nudged her forward, though. Shooting her an encouraging glance and Delilah cleared her throat. “Um…” she scratched at the back of her neck. “I need to tell you all something, well- the main reason I’m even here really. And why I brought him.”

Ron looked up finally, circles hanging beneath his eyes, stark against his pale skin. His freckles had seemed to fade more and more over the years, looking less like himself. “What do you mean?”

“Well-” she trailed, merlin why was this so difficult? Harry looked up at her through his glasses and her words felt like bile in her throat. 

_ Just spit it out _ , she could hear Tom telling her. 

So she did. 

“Do any of you know about the Deathly Hallows?”

The trio stiffened, all eyeing one another, and the silence that draped over the room gave Delilah her answer. She knew they did, but she didn’t want to come right out with it. Part of her was relieved, the other half concerned with their expressions - or if they would tell her anything. 

“So is that a yes, then?” she urged, looking expectantly at Hermione.

The girl's mouth opened and closed a few times, her arms wrapped around herself as she looked between Ron and Harry. “How did you… what do you want to know?”

“Well that’s the thing, that's why we’re here, I mean. We need to find them, either here in the future, but if not, we find the locations of where they were and go back-”

“You’re going  _ back _ ?” Ron cut in, blinking at her as if she’d just slapped him. 

Harry just stared, his jaw looking tight and his eyes glowing - he looked like he wanted to hit her with something. Delilah wouldn’t blame him if he did. Biting her lip, she pressed her hands to the table as if to anchor herself down, “listen, I promised Dumbledore. I don’t have a choice.” 

That seemed to run a shockwave through the room, making them all appear to attention. Hermione stood up a bit straighter, “Dumbledore knew about all of this?”

“I think so… I mean, during that speech he gave in sixth year. It felt like a direct warning to me, about Tom. And when I got sent back in time he helped me find a way, but not just as a one way trip and done. He gave me a job to do, and he told me to take Tom with. So it must be important-”

“You never even liked Dumbledore,” Harry said, his voice sharp and he’d crossed his arms, staring down at her. “Why trust his judgement?”

Delilah’s eyes narrowed, “why do you? Harry I know we’ve never agreed on everything, but with Dumbledore it’s always been concrete, you know that.” He knew she was right, but the whole concept made his head hurt and he looked away stubbornly. 

Ron sighed, rubbing at his eyes as he leaned against the far wall that had maps scattered all over it. “She’s right Harry, Dumbledore wouldn’t have sent him back here without a reason. Now what’s all this about the Deathly Hallows? Why are you looking for them?”

She bit her cheek, this was going to sound daft.

“To defeat Grindelwald.”

Hermione let out a spluttered laugh that sounded more like a cough, “I beg your pardon?”

“I know it’s mad-”

“Yeah, it’s completely mental. Do you really expect me to believe that?” Harry bit.

Her brows furrowed, “why would I lie?”

“Oh I don’t know, why would you bring in the young version of the man who killed my parents-”

“Harry-” Hermione tried to reason but Delilah shook her head. “No it’s fine, I get it.”

Looking back at him, her eyes settled and it felt as if someone dropped hot coals down her throat but she forced herself to keep going. “Harry, I don’t expect you to forgive me, okay? I don’t expect any of you to, and that’s fine as well. Right now that doesn’t matter, this is so much bigger. I need you to understand that. Not just this war will be affected, but the last. Time is a fucking mess right now and on my life I know it’s my fault. But I made a promise to Dumbledore, I need to get the Deathly Hallows- or at least find out where they were in the forties. I need to, many lives depend on it. As well as yours. I need to do this for all of you and everyone else, past and present. I don’t care about me, that’s not what’s important. Grindelwald if after all three of them now, he already has the elder wand. This is a new factor that wasn’t in play before.” 

Harry ducked his head down, his hand reaching up to absentmindedly rub at his scar. He hated her right now, but something was telling him she was right- whatever this was, this war… he already knew it wasn’t just about him. But this only seemed to multiply it by ten. 

Sighing, he turned to look at her, Ron, then Hermione, and back again. He trusted Dumbledore, no matter how infuriating it was at times, no matter how confusing. He had to, Harry didn’t feel he had much choice. 

“What exactly do you need?”

Delilah gnawed at her lip, “I know you have the cloak… after a bit of digging I realized you’re related to the Peverell line.”

He tensed and she shook her head, “I’m not asking to take it, not unless it’s absolutely necessary. If we can find out where your grandfather was in the year that I left I can get it then and then return it afterwards.” Well, she could only hope. 

The trio looked at each other again, trying to swallow this new weight that had been added to their hell. 

After a moment Harry nodded once, the movement quick and sharp, “I understand.”

  
  


**He** had calmed himself down from his panic attack by trying to do that breathing technique he had taught Delilah. It felt pathetic-  _ he  _ felt pathetic. Tom hadn’t spiraled like that since he was a child, back at the orphanage. 

Nights in that decrepit building were always the worst, especially in his youth. The walls seemed to breathe down his neck, the floors creaking just to set off his nerves. 

Tom Riddle was a very lonely boy.

He shook his head, trying to rid his mind of Wool’s, turning his ring over in his hands a few times, pure boredom creeping in but he felt exhausted. Sweat still glistened at his brow but all he could do was stare at the cracked ceiling. 

“You look dreadful.”

He turned to stone at the voice-  _ no _ . 

His eyes slid to the side, slowly, a breath barely passing his lips as he looked at where the voice had come from. He felt cold.

“Have I finally gone mad?” he muttered to himself.

“I think you went mad a long time ago, Riddle.” Elio mused.

Tom blinked, his eyes felt heavy at the movement, as if everything had gone in slow-motion. This wasn’t actually Elio, it couldn’t be. The longer he looked at him, though the lighting was dim and poor, he could see the bars partly through Elio. The boy taking on a grey-silver hue. 

“Are- how?  _ What?” _

Tom Riddle was lost for words.

Elio smiled, leaning against the bars and he looked around the cell, amusement pulling at his brows. “They certainly did a number on you,” he mumbled. Tom was still staring at him, the late Rosier found it rather comical, if he were to be honest. 

“How are you here?” Tom finally managed, sitting up. His throat felt like gravel, “am I having a psychotic break?” 

Elio laughed, short and sharp. Something Tom hadn’t felt in a while nudged at his ribs- guilt. 

“I don’t think so, but how would I know?” He then held up his own hand, watching in curiosity how he could see Tom’s face through his palm. “I don’t know how or why I’m here, this is your doing.”

Tom felt like throwing up, but he managed to just clear his throat. Biting his cheek he forced himself to look at Elio.

“I’m… I’m sorry-”

Elio shook his head, “don’t”

“I am, truly.” 

He didn’t answer, instead he merely looked around again. “So this is the future?”

“For the most part,” Tom leaned his back against the bars from his place on the floor.

Elio tsk-d, “it’s pretty shit.”

A small laugh broke from Tom, “I suppose it is.”

“And Delilah?”

Tom sighed through his nose, “I don’t know where she is.”

“Is she okay?”

There was a pause, “I hope.

“Well, I can only assume she told you then?”

Tom quirked a brow, “you knew?”

“I did… don’t be mad at her. She was scared.”

“I’m not mad.”

Elio’s head tilted to the side, “I know, it’s quite odd. You look different.”

“How? It hasn’t been that long since you- well, yeah.”

Another beat of silence and Elio looked down, “yeah.” Walking over, he sat down on the mat next to Tom, though there was no indent, seeing as he actually wasn’t there. Tom wasn’t sure if he were a ghost or merely a figment of his imagination. He supposed it didn’t matter either way. 

For a long while, or perhaps it was only minutes, they just stared forward. Watching how the dust in the air circled. 

Tom wondered if this was some sort of trick his mind was playing on him. Just dealing him one hell after another. Part of him feared if this would be a chain, what if all the people he felt responsible for, or at least their deaths, started appearing to him? Would Rosie be next? Then Myrtle, his father, his mother…

“Take care of her, will you?”

Tom turned to look at Elio, he’d gotten more hazy, the bitter cold fading into a dull chill. The boy returned his gaze, his eyes no longer a pale green, they were just.. empty. A mere sheen of what once existed. 

“Promise me, Riddle. Take care of her.”

His jaw clenched, his throat feeling tight. 

“I will.”

And he was gone.

Glancing down, the magical restraints had been broken off his wrists. The grin that grew on his features was sharp as it cut into his lips, he could feel the magic thrumming around him again. Could feel it sinking into his skin, making his bones vibrate in a low hum. 

Elio never did cease to surprise him, even in death. 


	9. Chapter Seven

**Tom** feigned being asleep, laying on the pathetic mat on the floor with his head propped up on the lumpy pillow, arms crossed behind him.

He kept rerunning the event of seeing Elio the night before. How he was just a shadow, but not quite a ghost, He didn't know what it was, could apparitions travel across space time? Was it just a figment of his imagination? Then how would that explain him breaking free of the bracelets on his wrists? Maybe even then that was just his own magic projecting.

The train of thought was interrupted as the sound of the door creaking open met his ears. Shortly followed by a sharp tap on the bars. "Mornin' sunshine," Harrison mused, looking down at him with some small bitter enjoyment. Tom cracked one eye open, looking at the boy. Him and Delilah looked pretty similar, though his hair was a darker shade of blonde and his eyes were more on the hazel side.

"Good morning," he greeted calmly, the bracelets were still on his wrists, though bound there by his own magic now. He could've easily slipped away last night, breaking through the defenses of his cage even without a wand. But he had to think carefully about this, he needed their trust. Or at least some scrap of it. And Merlin knows how difficult it would've been to drag Delilah along with him discretely. The girl always found a way to make noise.

He smiled slightly despite himself at the memory of them in Ravenclaw tower. Tom wasn't a virgin before that escapade but Delilah certainly made him feel reborn.

"Someone has requested your presence, hopefully he doesn't end up bashing your head in." Harrison tsk-d, "though to be fair it'd be quite amusing if he did." As he made work to undo the lock Tom sat up, humming to himself. He was sure he was talking about Harry. Wondering what the boy could possibly want.

Maybe Delilah talked to him, convinced him. If she did he'd be a bit surprised, not to cut her short of credit but she wasn't the most well versed person in making such deals.

Harrison led him upstairs, the position a bit awkward due to Tom having the advantage of height on him. They went up another flight of stairs, Tom observing rooms as they went wondering which could possibly hold Delilah. Besides trying to convince the Order of his _innocence_ , or at least prove he was helpful, he wondered what she'd been up to. Reconnecting with her friends, family. His mind trailed to Blaise, but shook his head. He felt secure in the fact that Delilah only wanted him. Though part of him worried, for a small moment, what if she no longer wanted to leave?

His quite frankly embarrassing panic attack came to mind, how his mind spiraled. Fearing she'd just leave him in there to rot. In a small cube of cement and thin cloth. Far too similar to how he felt as a boy at Wool's. Before he knew the true fate of his mother, he genuinely believed she'd left him in that orphanage to wither away.

In a way she had.

Tom kept having to remind himself Delilah wanted him just as much as he did her. It was the only thing keeping his mind at bay.

Harrison opened a door and led Tom in, the lighting dim due to blinds being drawn and candles floated in the air. Harry was leaned against a far table, alone. Tom raised a brow at Harrison, but the boy said nothing and shut the door, leaving the two to themselves.

Part of him wondered if this was some scheme to kill him off. It was he had to give them light appraisal, he didn't think they were capable. Lately people have been surprising him.

Harry stayed at a distance, his arms crossed against his chest and holding his wand tightly. His eyes were startlingly green, staring at him behind his glasses with such strong ferocity.

Keeping his hands behind his back, Tom cleared his throat and kept his face neutral. Giving the silence another moment before starting, "I know it's not my place, or perhaps it is. I take full responsibility for any of the harm that's come not just your way but everyone else. I'm sorry." Even to his ears it sounded like bullshit, he just hoped Harry would see it differently.

Though based on the way the boy's jaw clenched he wasn't so sure.

Harry's mind was reeling, still trying to comprehend who was in front of him. That darker part of himself whispered how easy it would be to just kill him then and there. Watching him drop to the floor like a sack of damp flour with no life in his eyes.

How easy. But if what Delilah said was true... if Dumbledore really had a plan he had to trust it. What other option did they have? The Order was hanging off a frayed rope at this point.

He regarded Tom for a few more moments. It was strange, usually Harry felt such a searing pain in his scar when Voldemort was near but with him... there was nothing. Not even an ache. Though it was small, he couldn't deny the shimmer of hope that ignited in his chest. Maybe, just maybe they could do it.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his messy hair. "I didn't call you in hear to hear an apology, let alone accept one."

Tom nodded, he wasn't expecting him to.

"Delilah proposed an idea, it sounds outlandish," Harry began. Tom refrained from chuckling. "But at the moment we're out of options and she's adamant you're a helpful tool." Now she never worded it that way, but Harry subconsciously had the goal to chip at Tom in any way he could. There was something between them, he didn't know what and he didn't care to entertain the thought.

Walking to the door, careful to keep some distance between them, he opened it and called down the hall.

A few moments later Kingsley, Ron, Hermione, and Delilah came through the door. The moment her eyes landed on him she wanted to jump on him and hug him. It'd only been a day, as needy as that might make her sound but the two had grown rather attached without them noticing. They've always been in each other's company, always knew where the other was. The sudden split felt like a punch to the gut for her.

Instead she spared him the smallest smile she dared.

She started, "now I know you could never give me an answer then but- the object I was sent to retrieve all those months ago, what was it?"

Tom's head ticked to an angle, eyes flickering around the group as he watched their expressions muddle into unease as memories surged forth. Kingsley sighed, "I don't know. None of us did, Dumbledore left strict instructions it be kept confidential."

"Which is why," Hermione began, wringing her hands nervously and Ron rubbed small circles into her back. She swallowed and dared a glance in Tom's direction, to which he only raised a brow. "We're going to infiltrate Hogwarts and get to Dumbledore's office. There's been whispers that valuable information had been left behind."

"Left behind?" Tom's voice was like sharp glass. "This is Albus Dumbledore, he wouldn't just leave something apparently so useful in a drawer at his desk. Where have you been hearing the rumors?"

Harry shifted his weight, hating how he was right.

Hermione seemed undeterred though, glaring at him. "We already have spies within the castle."

"Portraits, I assume?"

She swallowed dryly, "yes. Why?"

"And you trust a painting?"

"More than you," Ron mumbled.

"Regardless," Delilah cut in, shooting Tom a warning glance to tell him to shut up. "Phineas' portrait has always been helpful to us, and he said there had been a storage of documents hidden in Dumbledore's quarters -"

"However if we apparate the alarms will go off, I think we're forgetting that mini obstacle," Ron chimed.

Kingsley shook his head, "we'll be arriving at Aberforth's, he has the last remaining passage into the castle. Now guards will be sent out, and that's where one of the elves will come in."

Hermione bristled, her eyes gleaming with anger. "I hate the idea of using Belkin as bait, it's not right."

"'Mione he volunteered," Harry reminded her.

She picked at the hem of her jumper, "doesn't make it anymore right."

Harry wanted to snap at her that it was war,  
to get over it. But he bit his tongue and turned to Kingsley. "Once we get into the castle there's a series of hidden hallways that have still been untouched for the most part, I've been keeping an eye on the map and found which ones tend to be vacant and clear. We'll get into his office and search, Phineas said most if not all of the headmasters' portraits have cleared by now. We'll be in and out and get whatever information we need."

Tom looked to Delilah, she looked tired. Wrapped up in a large and scratchy looking sweater with an 'H' on it and scuffed up jeans. Circles hung like craters under her eyes and wished he could just touch her.

Shaking his head he looked to Harry, "and if not all goes to plan?"

"It will."

"Harry mate, your optimism is always inspiring but... if something does go wrong we need a back up plan." Ron said carefully, not wanting to necessarily agree with Tom so vocally.

"Then we fight. Like we always do. We fight till we can't, and we can't lead them back here. The Order would be finished if they found any of our safe houses." He took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes, they felt like two dead weights were lugging inside his head.

"And," Kingsley cleared his throat, now looking to Tom. "We need to keep you out of any Death Eaters sight. I highly doubt they'd even recognize you, but never the less. You-Know-Who can see all his followers thoughts and memories, the last thing we need is him knowing that -" he took a slow breath. Debating.

"The last thing we need him knowing is that you're here, on our side."

Tom didn't object the statement, he merely nodded.

"Understood."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know updates for this have been slow and i apologize but all is well. i'm by far more active/interactive on wattpad since messaging individuals is easier so if you ever need to reach me my user is the same as on here!!


	10. Chapter Eight

**Later** that night there was a knock on her door. Brows furrowing, her head rolled to the side to take a look at the clock. It was nearly four in morning.

Kicking the heavy blanket off her legs, she nearly tripped as she tried to untwist herself. Another knock, more impatient, and she huffed as she finally grabbed hold of the doorknob.

"What-"

Tom stood there with a bemused expression on his features and she found herself blushing.

A multitude of questions bounced around in her mind as he stepped forward into the room and shut the door behind him with a soft click. "How are you... how'd you slip away?"

"That Granger girl can be helpful when she wants to be," he said lightly.

Delilah didn't bother asking him what he meant, not that she had the chance to seeing as his hand slipped into her hair and he pulled her mouth to his. Warmth and familiarity engulfed her as Tom's other arm wrapped around her middle, hot breath invading her mouth.

It felt strange to think she had missed him, but she had. She missed being near him and being free to act on her wants and needs. Now she felt restricted in even looking in his general direction - scared of judgement.

Again, Delilah didn't blame them. But that didn't make it any less hard.

Tom pulled away, lips pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead and hand massaging the back of her neck. "You're thinking too much."

"Aren't I always?"

He hummed, looking down at her and her flushed features and he never thought he'd genuinely crave someone before but there he was - relapsing back into her. Who knew a person could cause symptoms of withdrawal.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" She asked, stepping away from him to sit on the edge of the bed. He bit his cheek, eyes dancing over the room and the cluttered mess of it. Walking over, he stood before her and messed with the collar of the sweater she was wearing.

"Am I ready to walk into a war zone?" Tom's tone was light and easy going and he offered her a slated smile. "Of course I am."

"I don't think they'll let you have your wand."

"Not a problem."

Her brow raised, "what do you mean?"

"Please, your lack of faith in my abilities is disheartening." Following his statement Tom lifted up one wrist and easily took the bracelet off, eyes glinting as he watched her own widen.

"Have they been like that the entire time?"

Tom shook his head and slipped the device back on, "just last night I managed to crack them." He didn't think it the best idea to bring up his little episode and the fact he spoke to her recently passed ex.

"How?" She grabbed hold of his hands and lightly ran her fingers over the cool metal. He took hold of her chin, bringing her gaze to his.

"It's complicated."

Delilah grinned, "uncomplicate it."

He didn't answer her, he just kissed her again. And again, and again. Tom kissed her till her mind went numb and she took notice of nothing but his weighty presence.

_I missed you_ , nearly dripping off her tongue and he eased her onto her back on the mattress. His hands ghosting under the jumper and making her melt between his fingers.

His touch rested against her rib cage for a moment, taking in the blush of her cheeks and shimmering eyes. "You have to be quiet," his voice a lull, swarming around her and making her feel dizzy.

"Why not just cast a silencing charm?" She went to go reach for her wand, but within a second both wrists were pinned above her head and his nose brushed hers. A daring gleam to his starless eyes.

"And take away the fun?"

Her jaw went slack at his suggestion. "But what if-"

Tom took hold of her chin again and she shuddered, his brows raising. "Will you be quiet for me?"

Delilah's eyes were doting and she nodded. Though her own cheeky smile deepened her cheeks. "Yes, sir," she joked.

However when his grip tightened and his jaw strained at the term, the excitement, longing, and a bit of fear running through her felt overwhelming. She wasn't thinking straight. This was a terrible idea, but it was hard to say no to him. Especially when he was on top of her.

Tom knew he was being reckless, but he didn't care. She was there, beneath him, and that voice in the back of his head whispered about how he had missed her touch - missed her.

He shook his head slightly and tugged the jumper off her body. She wasn't wearing a bra, seeing as she had been planning to sleep but was ultimately greeted by her dear companion insomnia again.

It was clear Tom was wasting no time as he too shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and undid his belt. He movements didn't seem rushed, but tonight was different. For both of them.

They wanted another dose of each other and quickly.

His fingers hooked on the hem of her shorts and underwear and swiftly dragged them down her legs. Mouth latching onto hers again as he bent over, hot and open mouthed and his tongue traced the inside of her cheek.

Swallowing the light moan she let out as two of his fingers dragged down her folds before sinking in, thumb running circles persistently against her clit. Delilah thrusted against his hand, her own fingers twining and burying themselves in his unruly head of dark hair.

The steady and slow dragging of his fingers in and out of her may her feel on fire, as if the bed beneath her would turn to ashes. Tom's mouth left hers and trailed down to her jaw, dusting over neck and to her chest. Sucking and biting and leaving whatever marks he pleased on her breasts seeing as they'd be the easiest to hide.

"Tom," her voice was a breathy, heated whisper. He could feel her start to pulse around his fingers, just nearly there, when he stopped.

Her chest was heaving and he marveled at the sight, ignoring her glare as he undid his trousers and slipped down his boxers. A second not wasted as he entered her.

His arms held himself up as he thrusted forward, pushing her further into the mattress and her mouth gaped open at the force of it. Tom ground back then forth, the pacing almost brutal and it hurt and it was delicious all at once.

"Always so wet..." he trailed heavily into her ear, nipping at it and goosebumps erupted on her flesh. "And tight for me."

Her knees were bent, toes curled and head thrown back as he fucked her with next to no gentleness.

She loved it. A moan nearly tore out of her but Tom snatched it away as his hand closed around the beating skin of her neck, as if to tether himself to her. He could feel her pulse thrumming violently which only spurred him on further.

Harder and faster, sweat beading her skin like dew and her eyes rolled into back of her head.

Choking.

She couldn't breathe. It hurt but then when he'd drag out his cock would hit that special spot and she felt electricity shock ever nerve in her spine.

Hitting her orgasm with a muffled and choked cry, her legs trembled but he kept going. His grip on her throat bruising and hot tears slipped from her eyes, burning her cheeks and he drank up the sight.

" _Fuck_ -" he rasped out, chasing and grinding and it was all too much for her as she shook and her vision swam. Tom finally let go as he watched her nearly slip unconscious and she sucked in a harsh breath of air but it turned into another moan as his pelvis slid against her clit.

Reaching his hand out, his fingers slipped between her swollen lips and into her mouth easily. Her tongue swirling around the digits without a thought and she could taste herself on him.

"Fuck, Delilah."

Tom's fingers pushed down on her tongue as his thrusts became more erratic, the muscles in his stomach clenching and she tightened around him once more.

Marveling at the sight as he came, head thrown back and throat bent with veins pulsing. His chest heaving as his hips stilled against her, that warm feeling of his release filling and coating her and more profanities left his mouth in hushed whispers.

Tom pulled out, watching with a twisting satisfaction as his cum mixed with hers pooled and leaked out of her swollen folds.

Delilah was still shaking but he rubbed soothing circles into her thighs as he bent over to kiss her gently.

"You did wonderfully for me, darling.

**The** next morning Delilah walked into the kitchen, incredibly sore but she walked it off to the best of her ability. Not missing how Tom's eyes flickered to her neck, the subtle hint of disappointment in his gaze at the notion she got rid of his marks.

She absolutely refused to meet Hermione's gaze.

Belkin arrived a moment later, appearing with a sharp pop and his eyes glowed violet as he smiled at them all. "Ready?" The elf shuffled on his feet, strangely excited given the fact he was about to be put directly in the line of fire.

The group looked at each other, Hermione looking angry, but they all nodded.

"Ready, and remember Belkin. You pop in only enough to catch a few guards' attentions and then you leave." Kingsley clarified. The elf nodded, smiling, and with the snap of his fingers he was gone.

Not a moment later Kingsley took hold of Tom's arm, the rest linking hand and they apparated to the Hogs Head Inn.

The world bent and twisted around them, tugging and pulling apart before they landed with a thump in the middle of the old wooden tavern.

"Here I was expecting you to be late," Aberforth grumbled, downing a tankard even though it was eight in the morning.

They could dainty hear the screeching alarms going off and Hermione wrung her hands. Ron have her shoulder a light squeeze. "He'll be fine," he whispered.

"I'm never late," Kingsley chimed. The Dumbledore was about to reply, but when Kingsley moved out the way and saw Tom and Delilah his hand holding his drink stilled.

"I'm not going to ask."

Tom smiled charmingly, "pleasure to see you, sir." Delilah resisted the urge to laugh at the sight of the others' confused faces.

"I suspect my brother had something to do with his," he gestured to the pair of them. Harry's eyes glanced towards Tom, "you could say that."

"This little reunion is lovely, really. But we ought to get going, yeah?" Ron chimed, his first own nerves were itching at his spine but he tried his best to appear calm. Mostly for Hermione and Harry's sake. Both were always so strained and tense and he felt if he were to let himself fall to his worries they might crumble along with him.

Aberforth grunted and started down the hall, "this way."

He led them down a hall, narrow and slanted and they came into a room with dust coating everything like snow. On the far wall was the portrait of Ariana and she smiled at them all lightly before it swung forward, the canvas revealing a large hole in the wall.

The group went through, crouched and cold. The smell of damp rocks and soil tickling their noses. It felt like ages until they reached another end.

Harry pushed the portrait forward to reveal the Room of Requirement, remnants of old beds and clothes strewn around everywhere. Echos from the days leading up to the Battle.

What horrid hours those had been. Relentless fighting and so many deaths only for it to hit a stalemate.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice broke him from his trance and he shook his head. "Sorry," hopping down, his feet landed with a soft thud.

The rest followed and Ron pulled out the Marauder's Map, the ink filling its pages and Tom leaned over slightly in curiosity.

It was an impressive bit of magic.

"This place is practically deserted," he said, eyes tracing over every hall. "Minus the front gates and outer rim, but they're mostly there just for guarding."

"Then we better make it quick," Kingsley gestured for them to follow as he walked.

Weaving through the halls, or what was left, most tended to avoid looking too long. Wanting to repress the memories as much as they could.

Tom couldn't help as his eyes traced over every crack, lump of rumble, and blood stained stone.

All his fault.

Nearing the Headmaster's office, the large phoenix bird was knocked askew, making the group have to climb over it. Delilah's foot slipped on the smooth bronze but Tom's hands easily found their way to her sides, holding her steady.

"Sorry."

"I'm sure," he mused, shortly after hauling himself up and on top of the statue.

The doors were unlocked, barely hanging on their hinges. The group didn't have much time to dote when someone cleared their throat.

They all flinch, wands raise, but ease at the sight of Phineas in his portrait. The rest all empty.

"Took the lot of you long enough-"

"Where do we need to look?" Kingsley cut him off.

The Black glared but then gestured to one of the side wall lines with artefacts. "There's false book's with documents hidden."

"Which ones?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know _muggle born_ ," disgust underlined his tone but she ignored it with a mere roll of the eyes. "I'm sure we can figure it out ourselves."

Barely five minutes later Hermione had already found the first one.

"Either she's clever or that was a very pathetic hiding attempt." Tom mused to himself but turned when Delilah nudged him in the side. "What?"

She pointed, eyes wide.

He turned and then went still as twinkling eyes met his.

"Hello, Tom." Dumbledore's portrait spoke, much older. He must've just appeared. The old wizard smiled kindly and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Hello, sir."

Dumbledore waved his hand, "no need for such politeness. I'm glad to see you and Miss Meddows made the trip safely."

"I think I found all of them! Oh-" Hermione stood from her spot on the floor, clutching papers to her chest as gaped at the sight of Dumbledores portrait. Everyone else already gawking. They hadn't seen him in ages.

"Professor Dumbledore I'm sorry I hadn't realized," Hermione blew the hair out of her face, down right embarrassed.

The old man laughed gently, "always a pleasure, Miss Granger. Good to see you're just as sharp as I remember."

She smiled the best she could, not being able to get the image of him laying dead in the courtyard out of her mind.

They couldn't dwell, despite how much they all wanted to stay and talk. But even he began to urge them on their way.

"But sir," Harry started, having a hard time meeting his eye. "This plan of yours-"

He held up his hand, "let time run its course, Harry. It always will."

He clenched his jaw. Though he missed the professor dearly his lack of transparency, especially in such a trying time, was infuriating. Nonetheless he nodded, "it's good to see you."

"And you as well, my boy."

They began to file out of the room, despite their more rational thoughts the trio felt a bit more ease at the notion of Tom being at their side. Neither trusted him, but there was assurance building.

"Miss Meddows?"

She swallowed dryly and stopped at the door, "sir?"

"There should be a note in the bottom drawer of my desk."

Hesitantly, she walked over and tried the bottom latch. It would have been locked, but she had the inkling Dumbledore had something to do with the lack of security on these objects.

It slid open and there laid an envelope with her name printed in ink.

"What is it?" she asked, about to rip it open but he shook his head. "Not yet."

"When should I?"

"You'll know."

She didn't bother to hide her glare. Looking to the door, they must've been down in the hall but she lowered her voice nonetheless.

"About the object, what was it?"

"In all due time."

God she wished she would've punched him when he was still alive. "Does the letter explain it?"

He just stared at her, knowing and haunting and he tapped the side of his nose. "Amor Vinicit Omina," and with a wink he was gone.

Her frustration quickly melted away into confusion and shock as realization dawned on her.

"Oh my fucking god."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got bold with trying to write smut again... ITS ALWAYS SO AWKWARD WRITING IT but i hope you enjoyed?


	11. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i take huge gaps in updating i apologize,, but if you're still following the story i appreciate it so much!!

**Meeting** them back in the hall, Delilah’s legs felt weak in a way that wasn’t correlated with the previous night's activity. 

It felt as if someone had ripped her bones out and stuck a stranger’s in their place, reworking her nerves just enough but it still felt wrong. 

Her eyes danced over everyone’s curious gazes and landed on Tom, her hand clutching the envelope and she dragged her tongue off the roof of her mouth. 

“Do you have the cigarette box I gave you?”

“Not on me,” he raised a brow at her panicked expression. “It’s back at the house, your brother nicked it off me the first night.” 

“Oh thank fuck,” some small relief filled her and she shut her eyes for a moment, her head still churning over the new found information. 

She wasn’t exactly sure why it was important, but clearly it had  _ something _ to do with this mess. Otherwise why would Dumbledore go through the trouble? 

“What’s so important about this case? Since when do you smoke?” Harry asked with arms crossed, a judgemental glint behind his glasses. 

Delilah refrained from glaring at him, “I don’t smoke. But Dumbledore mentioned it and I think it’s important.”

“How?” Hermione asked. 

Biting at her cheek, she ran her fingers over the wax seal. “It’s just a theory but…” she tried to picture the case as clearly as she could. Of the intricate detail and it’s silver sheen. How she was drawn to it… “possibly, I don’t know, it could play a role into why I was thrown back in time.” 

“How the fuck does that work?” Ron asked, scratching at the back of his head and Hermione sent him a sideways glance. She was never fond of him swearing. 

“I don’t know, there has to be something though. I need to see it again and maybe we can study it, see if there’s any underlying traces of magic.”

Tom shook his head, “there isn’t.”

“Well how do you-“

“I’d know.” 

Huffing a breath, she couldn’t shove away the feeling she had in her gut that this was a trail she should follow. “Regardless, I need to see it.” 

“Fine, let’s all get back and you can work on that while we go through all the new documents.” Harry started off down the hall followed by the rest of them, Kingsley already much further ahead to check if it was still clear. 

“And by  _ we _ , you mean me.” Hermione added, Delilah took note of the bags under her eyes but other than that the girl held herself together remarkably well. 

Tom fell in step next to Delilah, hands shoved in his pockets and she gave him a once over. “You could probably use a change of clothing.” 

He’d kept clean thanks to a few smells but he could admit a new wardrobe wouldn’t go unappreciated. Humming for a moment, he looked down at her. 

“Do you really think the case is an element in all this?” 

She thought back to the silver glint that showed through the package all those months ago. Note she wasn’t sure how to explain that if she bought it in a shop in the forties, how would it end up in the nineties before she ever even left?

Time travel was a messy ordeal. 

“I do, besides it wouldn’t hurt to try.” 

  
  


**After** just finishing a cup of tea, the cigarette box was placed in front of her on the kitchen table with a dull thud. 

The letter sat beside it and she itched to just tear the bloody paper open. She knew now wasn’t the time, if she read it now she felt she wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else. 

When she looked up, her eyes went wider than the moon at the sight in front of her. 

Tom’s brows furrowed, “what?” 

“Nothing just,” Delilah blinked. “Nothing.” 

They’d finally let him properly shower so his hair was an unruly mess of dark curls. That wasn’t what took her off guard, though. 

It was the grey baggy sweatshirt he was wearing with a pair of roughed up jeans. 

Part of her wanted to laugh at the absurdity of seeing him in such an outfit, the other part wanted to rip the clothes right off him and fuck him on the table. 

“There’s no need to gape, darling.” Tom tsk-d as he sat down next to her, tugging at the collar a bit. 

“I wasn’t gaping.” 

“I beg to differ, you were practically eye-fu-“

Delilah coughed loudly once as Harry walked in, eyeing Tom’s outfit with an annoyed pull at his lips. It must’ve been his clothes, seeing as they were similar in height and build. 

Ron could’ve also been a choice but she doubted Tom would ever wear one of his jumpers. 

“Anything interesting with the documents?” She asked, bringing her wand out and starting to run a series of diagnostics on the case. 

Harry shrugged a shoulder, digging around aimlessly in the cupboards either because he was bored, hungry, or restless. “‘Mione is translating them, they’re in ancient runic text.” He fished out a bag of crisps and popped one in his mouth. “So Ron and I are useless.”

He gestured to the case, “anything?” 

Delilah’s eyes flickered over the spell, so far nothing. It was blank. Just an ordinary fucking object. 

There had to be something about it. 

Shaking her head, she opened it and got a waft of tobacco. A line of fine cigarettes all lined up on the plush velvet interior. 

“Do you have records on the Deathly Hallows?” She asked after a moment, leaning back in her chair and rubbing at her eyes.

Harry hummed in thought for a moment before nodding, “I think so. Somewhere in the war room probably, I’ll have Luna fetch them for you.”

“Harry!” Ginny called vaguely from somewhere upstairs, and that’s all it took for the green eyed boy to practically skip out of the room. 

Once he was out of earshot, Tom tilted his head, “the chosen one doesn’t know runes?” 

“He was sort of busy avoiding impending doom in school, I don’t think runes were a concern of his.” She muttered as she poked and prodded at the inside of the lid. 

“I feel like he could multitask,” Tom stood as Delilah ignored him, clearly hell bent on wanting to find a clue. Taking her cup, he walked over to the counter and began making his own cup of tea. “The Deathly Hallows, we know Grindelwald has the wand. Peverell has the cloak in the forties and Potter has it now. That leaves the ring.”

“Which has been lost for centuries,” she mumbled, dumping the cigarettes out on the table which earned her a glare. 

He went to pick up the cup but paused, staring at the onyx oil black of his ring and how the light hit it just right, making it almost translucent. There seemed to be… it was never there before. 

Tom thought back to how Elio appeared in front of him. 

“ _ Delilah _ .”

At the course tone in his voice, she turned to look at him. “What?”

He held up his hand and she paled. 

“But- I mean how? Haven’t you’ve always had that?  _ How  _ do you even-” She stumbled over her words as well as her feet as she got up and rushed over to him, grabbing his hand and inspecting the black ring. 

The mark of the Deathly Hallows was inscribed on the inside of it, flickering in and out of sight as if it were fog. “I’ve never seen it like this before, wasn’t it always opaque?”

“It was until the other night,” he said carefully, eyeing her necklace. 

“What happened the other night?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, debating on what to tell her or if anything at all. How he was in a cage and how her dead ex boyfriend gave him an impromptu visit. 

“I was just messing with it, turning it over in my hands a few times and shortly after that is when I got the restraints off.” The lie slipped out of his mouth easily, they always did. Besides, it was close enough to the truth, save for a few omitted details. 

Still, that foreign feeling of guilt nudged at his ribs before he repressed it again. 

Her eyes were narrowed in focus as she continued to stare at it, “how the fuck did you have one of the Deathly Hallows all this time and you never knew? Can’t you sense stuff like this? Have you always had it?”

Tom shook his head as he slipped the ring off and dropped it into her palm. “I got it when I was sixteen, I thought it was heirloom.” He thought calling it a trophy for the murder of his father would be a bit crude. He always knew there was something more to the ring, but he’d summed it up to ancient magic - which was true - however he’d equated it to belonging to Slytherin.

Not Death. 

It wasn’t dark magic either, despite the bloody trail the Hallows left in their wake. 

“One down, two to go.” Delilah said as turned it once but Tom’s hand rushed to cover hers. 

“I wouldn’t, unless you want to see a dead relative.”

She paused, thinking back to Elio. Would she be able to see him? Talk to him? Merlin, what would she even say? Would she even be able to look at him? A flash of his blood soaked smile flashed in her head and her heart gave an unpleasant lurch.

There was a knock on the door and she flinched. 

Luna was standing in the kitchen entryway with a thick book in her arms and an absent look in her eyes. Not seeming bothered at all at the sight of Tom, unlike everyone else in the Order.

“Harry said you needed this,” her voice was light as she walked forward and gently placed it on the table. She eyed the cigarettes and then looked up at Tom. “Smoking is terribly bad for you, you know. But I suppose it doesn’t matter, magic can fix the damage.”

He blinked at her, she was wearing a rather odd assortment of clothing. Layers of yellow and faded pink and green, with striped tights under torn jeans and mix matched socks. She wasn’t wearing shoes.

“So I’ve been told.” He said.

She held out her hand and Delilah bit back a smile.

“Luna Lovegood.”

He shook it once, “Tom Riddle.”

“I know.” With a settling glance, she smiled at Delilah once and walked out of the room. 

Tom hummed for a second, “I like her.”

“Everyone does,” Delilah held up the ring again. “So what are we thinking?”

Walking over to the book, Tom flipped it open and took note how this version was updated. Skimming over the names James Potter to Harry. “Did you ask him about the cloak?”

“Sort of, I’m not going to make demands to take it though. So if he doesn’t give it to us, we’ll have to find where his grandfather is in the forties.”

Grabbing one of the cigarettes, he wet it on his lips before lighting it and tugged at the collar of the sweatshirt again. Admittedly, it was comfortable but he felt he gave the appearance of someone who was lazy. 

“It’s settled then, we’re going back. When?”

She nodded and sat back down, lining up the envelope, the case, and the ring. Trying to piece together how it all connected. The letter probably gave her all the answers. But Dumbledore seemed keen not to rush the matter. “Soon hopefully, I need to get the time-turner back from Hermione.”

“Why does she have it?”

“It was either that or handing it over to Kingsley, if I did that we’d probably never see it again.”

Sitting back down, he looked through the resident records of everyone in the book. Taking a drag, he pulled the stick from his lips and smoke plumed out in front of him. “Do you really think they’ll just let me up and leave? I’m an asset to them.”

Resting her chin in her palm, she thought it over. She’d already talked to Harry about this, so regardless they would be leaving. However she couldn’t control how the rest of the Order responded, nor could Harry.

“They don’t have much choice, there’s a war we have to win. In both timelines.”

“That sounds dangerously optimistic.”

She raised a brow at him, “since when are you doubtful of your skills?”

“I’m not, but there are a multitude of other variables involved here. Grindelwald is a Seer, correct? How do we know he’s not already ten steps ahead of us?”

“I can only hope we’re rewriting history enough to where we’re being unpredictable, but not enough to where Armageddon takes place. Besides, we can’t just sit here and do nothing, we have to act regardless.”

She eyed his cigarette for a moment, wondering how helpful it really was to calm his nerves. Tom didn’t miss her sudden shift in thought and gestured for her to come over to him with a hand as he continued to read. 

When she was barely a foot away he grabbed onto her waist and yanked her into his lap, her arm instinctively anchoring itself around his neck and a blush dusted her cheeks. 

Taking another drag, with his free hand he grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her, breathing the smoke into her lungs and she shuddered at the heat of it and her mind felt fuzzy. 

Pulling back, his eyes watched as the nicotine fog danced between their lips.

“Careful or you’ll get me addicted,” her voice was a whisper. Eyes bright and latched onto his as he smirked. 

“I believe you already are.”


	12. Chapter Ten

**Delilah** held up the ring in front of them as Tom placed the cigarette between her lips, watching her as she analyzed the ancient stone.

He supposed it wasn’t  _ completely _ void of dark magic. 

It was a horcrux after all. 

His mind trailed back to his diary, which was currently stored away in a trunk at the safe house back in the forties. Parts of his soul scattered across time itself. Tom was curious if his soul affected the stone at all. If the Deathly Hallows were ever meant to be violated in such a way.

He wondered what would happen if he told her, then again she had to have already known. Right? She knew what he would become, so Tom drew the conclusion she knew about his endeavors of seeking immortality. Knew about the extent to which he ventured.

And with her frozen body clock, that voice in his head lulled quietly at the notion they could live forever. They could be  _ gods _ .

He was also curious to see if she could feel the aura around the ring, if she could see the faint glowing lines of magic that danced around objects that held such power. 

Tom had always been able to, even from a young age. Though admittedly at first, he thought it was an eye issue of some sort. 

Only it bloomed once he first visited Diagon Alley, even more so at Hogwarts. The threads of magic weaving through the air, some so vibrant that if he focused hard enough, he thought he might be able to reach out and pluck one. 

It wasn’t overwhelming, as he got older he hardly paid attention. He was able to switch it off. But with some objects - or people - they made their presence known. 

He watched her nose twitch as she turned the stone over, long faded freckles dusted over the bridge and her cheeks. She pulled the cigarette away after an inhale, blowing it out of the side of her mouth and handed it back to him. 

Tom placed it between his teeth and slid the ring back on his finger. 

Delilah glowed a silvery blue. The threads weaving almost invisibly in her hair and in her veins. He noticed it the moment he first saw her, passed out on one of the beds in the Slytherin dormitories. And when she used her runic spells they turned into near bolts of lightning. 

Looking down at his hand, he flexed his long fingers and watched how the bones and tendons moved. His threads a deep crimson against his pale skin. 

“Harry would go mad if he saw you two like this,” Hermione said as she walked in. 

Delilah jumped lightly, becoming acutely aware of how she was sitting on one of Tom’s legs and his arm was wrapped securely around her waist. 

She tried to move, but his hold wasn’t budging. All he did was puff out smoke and flip another page. 

Clearing her throat, she raised her chin in feigned nonchalance. “How are the translations going?”

Hermione sighed tiredly and grabbed a cup, magically filling it with water even though she didn’t have her wand on her. “Slow so far, most of the earlier documents are out of date. Lists of Death Eater bases that we’ve already raided or they’ve been long abandoned. Plus I’m working a bit sluggish.”

“I think you’re doing a remarkable job, considering you’re doing it alone.” Delilah added, giving her friend a sympathetic smile. 

“I could translate a few,” Tom said, earning a raised brow from the girl on his lap and a dry laugh from Hermione. 

“Sorry, but no one would let you anywhere near those. Take it as a motive of precaution.” 

He shrugged impartially, snuffing out the cigarette on the table and burning the wood. “Just thought I’d offer help, you all seem desperately under staffed.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes, “maybe we wouldn’t be if wizards weren’t being murdered left and right.”

There was a tense silence and Delilah shut her eyes briefly, glad that she at least didn’t say they were being murdered by  _ him _ .

Tom didn’t seem bothered, he simply raised his free hand in surrender and nodded once. “Pardon me if I’ve overstepped.” Though when she looked at him, his jaw was clenched, muscles straining. 

Sipping her water, Hermione leaned back against the counter and rubbed at her eyes. “I’m just exhausted. We also need more supplies for the infirmary and I was supposed to go yesterday but I’ve been crammed with other tasks. And we can’t just send anyone, the Death Eaters know who’s in the Order and they’re hell bent on finding Harry.” She took in a sharp breath after her ramble.

“That must be a lot, ‘Mione I’m sorry.” Delilah offered weakly, she was never good at this sort of thing. 

The girl nodded mutely for a moment before looking at the two of them, biting her lip and her brows furrowed deeply in the middle. That was never a good sign.

“What?”

“I have a suggestion but it’s mad,” even as she said the words, it seemed she wanted to retract them immediately. “Can you two go?”

This time Tom looked up, eyeing her over and a bemused smile tugged at his lips. “I can’t look at documents but you trust me to leave?”

“Trust is a strong word, but you two are already leaving again aren’t you? Besides,” she observed the position they were in, at how comfortable they were around each other. “I know you won’t run.”

“And what about the rest of the Order? They won’t agree with this.”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” 

Delilah blinked at Hermione, sure the girl had broken numerous rules at school. Though all for the right reasons. She never would’ve expected her to go behind Harry and Ron’s backs. 

“Where and when?” Tom asked, leaning back in his chair and pulling Delilah along with him, having her back rested against his chest. 

Of course he would be eager to leave, she couldn’t blame him. Being cooped up in a crowded house for days was a pest on its own, but he had yet to explore more of this new world. 

“I’ll write up a list of what we need, most of the herbs can be found in an acre that’s right outside of the city. But one ingredient in particular is in Diagon Alley, that’ll be the task. No one can see you two, Tom for the most part I think is safe but regardless. Try to stay hidden. I’ll fetch you two around seven, Harry and Ron should be out on patrol during then.”

  
  


**Later** that night Delilah stood alone on the roof, arms wrapped around herself to shield out the winter chill as she waited for Hermione to bring Tom. 

This whole thing was reckless. Though she supposed she’s done more careless shit that would outlast her lifetime. 

Staring down at the list, it was general herbs and plants that they would be able to find easily. More or less, aconite was on the list which was highly toxic. The ingredient at Diagon Alley was something called black quicksilver, which she wasn’t familiar with but there was an address to a shop scrawled next to it.

The door to the roof swung open, Hermione hot on Tom’s heels and her hair a wild mess. She was also fuming. Meanwhile he held a cocky expression. 

Delilah could only assume they were bickering. 

“Does he not ever have a filter?” Hermione huffed, yanking Ron’s jumper closer around herself. 

“Sadly, no.” 

Tom nearly rolled his eyes. “I was only informing Miss Granger about the absolute lack of organization within this little rebellion. Not to mention how disastrous that infirmary is looking, and their methods really are quite outdated-“

“Do you want to leave or not?” Hermione bit in, lips pursed. 

Looping her arm through his, Delilah smiled lightly at her friend. “When we get back you can have him clean the cupboards in the infirmary.” 

Tom craned his neck to look down at her with a brow raised. “I will  _ not- _ “

His sentence got cut off as they apparated. 

Landing on wet cobblestone streets, water clung to the edges and cracks like glue as people were bustling around to get home or go out to eat. 

Tom blew out a breath, glaring at her halfheartedly. “I’m not cleaning the bloody infirmary, have you seen it? It’s disgusting.”

“They’ll probably make you do it by hand, too.” Delilah mused, tugging him along through the streets of Muggle London as they neared Diagon Alley. 

She knew they’d have to stick to the shadows, ever since the war really kicked up at the start of sixth year the streets had been practically empty. Delilah hadn’t been back, to this version at least, since the battle at Hogwarts. 

She didn’t know if she could stomach seeing Fred and George’s joke shop. It’s been closed for about a year now, but she wondered if the front was still enchanted to move a hat up and down. 

Nearing the Leaky Cauldron, it looked void. Nothing like the lively version in the forties where people moved in and out and the air smelt of alcohol and watered down porridge.

“We can’t just walk in,” she said as they stopped a few feet away. Muggles walking by them as if they were suddenly invisible. 

“Cast a disillusionment charm.”

“You don’t think there’d be wards?”

“On an Inn?” 

She shrugged a shoulder, “they’re vigilant, but it won’t hurt.” 

Casting the spell over the both of them, Tom walked forward first and carefully opened the door, wincing at the loud creak. 

Looking around the edge, after a moment his shoulders relaxed a bit. 

“It’s empty.” 

Regardless, they walked through the pub on the first floor swiftly and carefully. Delilah’s wand out all the while in case someone tried to get the jump on them. 

After going through the brick wall, the streets were empty as expected, though stragglers would surely make themselves known the further they went. 

As planned, they stuck to back alleyways and shadowed over streets. Even though it was now dark out, they didn’t want to risk a stray lantern giving them away.

Reaching the potions shop, Tom saw an old man at the counter through a dingy window. Reading what looked to be like the Daily Prophet and eating dinner. 

“I could just apparate in and steal it.” He suggested quietly. 

She shook her head, “if you do that alarms will go off. Though I have no doubt you’d be able to nick it out of the shop easily.”

Tom flexed his nimble fingers, he’d always been good at sleight of hand. Even without magic, he’d picked up tricks while at the orphanage. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

Delilah snickered quietly, “of course you would.” 

He ignored the hidden jab and looked down at her, “and you’re positive he won’t recognize me?”

“Few people even know your name, and those who do are mostly dead.” 

Her mind flicked back to sixth year, when Dumbledore told them all of the boy who once walked the halls of the castle. No one was in a rush to go scour old news clippings or yearbooks to find a picture of him. Scared they’d be greeted by a red eyed monster. 

“You stay here.”

Her brows furrowed. “But-“

Grabbing her chin, he tilted her head back so her eyes met his. 

“Stay.” 

With that he turned around and sauntered into the shop. 

Huffing out a breath she slumped against the wall. “I’m not a dog,” she muttered. 

She watched as the shopkeeper looked up in surprise as the door opened, probably not expecting customers. She couldn’t see Tom’s face, but she could imagine the easy smile he probably held as he walked with the confidence of a god. All charm and no good intentions. 

Just as she saw him slip a few phials up his sleeve a hand wound itself in her hair and yanked her head back. Her breath being stolen as a sharp edge of a blade pressed itself against her throat. 

Their threat level apparent because she soon felt beads of warm blood trickle down her skin as the sting of a cut pricked at her nerves.

“Hello, pretty.”

A damp, bone chilling sensation ripped through her as her vision went white with fear. 

Something sharp jabbed into her back and her knees nearly buckled.

“I see you’ve healed rather nicely.” The sultry voice crooned. 

Delilah’s mind felt as if it had been plunged into cold water, any rational thought completely abandoning her and her jaw had seemed to lock itself.

She couldn’t even think that Tom was close by, that he would maybe walk out of the shop just in the nick of time. That he might save her. Might fight for her.

None of that occurred to mind.

All she could hear was her past screams ricocheting in her head.

The blade cut in deeper and more crimson pooled down, “I must say this is an unwelcome surprise.” They tsk-d.

Whirling her around, Delilah was shoved into the wall and her head slammed into the stone, making her ears ring and a sharp blow hit her in the ribs making her crumble. She heaved out a wet cough, red specks splattering on the ground.

She looked up at Bellatrix with wide, terrified eyes. 

The woman smiled manically, her teeth cracked, hair wild, and eyes gleaming with the promise of torture. 

“Let’s have a little chat, shall we?” She said cheerfully, fisting the fabric around Delilah’s neck and began to drag her up to her feet just as the shop door opened. 


	13. Chapter Eleven

**His** eyes took in and registered Bellatrix, recognizing her from Delilah’s memory of being tortured, looked at Delilah and how pale she was, blood dripping down from a cut at her throat - all in a matter of seconds. 

Pure, unadulterated rage burnt through him as he stalked forward. Breaking the cuffs off with a mere movement. 

She didn’t appear to recognize him, however. He had no doubt his future self, Voldemort, would want to keep his youthful days under wraps. 

“Who’s this, your boyfriend? He’s cute.” Bellatrix giggled as her whip unfurled from her free hand. 

That didn’t halt Tom’s advance, he couldn’t see anything but his girl bleeding out and looking terrified to death. 

The crack of that goddamn whip ripped through the air just as Tom reached his arm out and caught the curling end of it. The leather stinging into his skin as pain tore into him. 

It didn’t matter. 

Bellatrix’s eyes went wide for only a moment before her own anger took hold of her as Tom wrapped the end of the whip around his hand and yanked. 

She let out an enraged yelp as she staggered forward, dropping Delilah in the process. 

Her mind was blank, her eyes dazed as her knees scraped against the ground and her jeans tore. Blood still trickling and making her throat slick with crimson. 

Delilah couldn’t - she didn’t… where was she again?

Blinking rapidly she tried to focus but could look at nothing but her hands as they clutched uselessly at the wet stones. 

There were flashes of color going on somewhere near her. Or far. She couldn’t tell. The most she could register was the flashes of red and white. A lot of green. 

_ So _ much green. 

Something then got pulled out of her pocket. The whistle of it loud in the air. 

Where was she again? 

Who was she with? 

What time was it?

She blinked again, forcing herself to look up and saw a boy - Tom, now holding her wand and fighting. 

By god did he look furious.

Delilah had enough trouble recognizing him, but at the moment he looked like someone else entirely. Face etched with wrath but in an almost subtle way. 

The kind of quiet anger that made fear dig deeper. 

She felt terribly light headed. Trying to stand, she ended up swaying and falling back against the wall. Her hand was shaking as she raised it, her fingers just barely brushing her neck and they came away wet and that metallic smell met her nose. 

“ _ Tom- _ “ her voice was hoarse. 

His eyes slated to the side at the sound of her voice, causing him to just barely miss the spell Bellatrix had thrown at him. 

Her lip was pulled back in a grimace as she then deflected his impediment curse. 

It bounced right off her shield and slammed into Delilah. 

Tom’s ears rang with both Bellatrix’s maniacal laugh and his scream of agitation. Watching Delilah slump to the ground, head slamming into the floor and her eyes wide and empty. 

She looked dead. 

Fear, something he wasn’t accustomed to feeling, ripped him apart from the inside and pricked at every nerve. 

Her whip unfurled from his grip and shot it at Bellatrix, the leather curling around her ankle and she got pulled to the floor. 

Tom was on her in a moment. 

His own lip now pulled back in a snarl as his foot then stomped down on Bellatrix’s wand hand, the sound of bones crunching and grinding against the stone street reaching his ears. 

She lurched at the pain but refused to scream, attempting to yank herself free but Tom dropped a knee right onto her sternum and he felt the bone shift and weaken. 

In the blink of an eye he slipped her knife off her and stabbed her straight through her corset, digging it in deep between her ribs and could almost sense the moment he punctured her right lung. 

Bellatrix let out a breathless, almost gurgling wounded sound. Eyes building with rage at the notion a mere teenager had gotten the best of her. 

There was one problem. 

She was still breathing. 

But the killing curse wasn’t enough for him. 

Twisting the knife, he made sure to angle the handle up then down, watching in sadistic satisfaction as her veins pulsed violently beneath her skin. 

His other hand looped the whip around her neck and pulled so tight her throat looked like it was about to pop. 

“Are you going to kill me?” Bellatrix rasped out, one hand clawing uselessly against her skin as her other was still crushed beneath his foot. Bones jutting out of her flesh. 

Tom’s eyes were glowing, yet bottomless all at once. Drinking in every moment of her pain as he thought back to how she cut Delilah open. Shredding her back to pieces and laughing. 

He wasn’t any better than her, he knew that. 

Tom Riddle was much worse. 

“No,” his tone deathly quiet. 

He yanked the knife out and delighted in the sound of Bellatrix screaming. 

Either in pain or in fear she might actually die as blood started to gush out and pool on the street and fill her punctured lung. 

“I want you to beg for it.”

And he drove the knife into her stomach, dragging it up and cutting through her as easy as soft butter. Her intensities spilling out like ruddy red ribbons and blood splattered across his face. 

Her eyes had just started to roll into the back of her head as there was the crack of an apparation at the end of the street. 

Looking up, what he could assume was a Death Eater, was running towards them with a wand out and the killing curse surely on their tongue. 

Tom let out an animalistic sound of rage as he stood up, digging his foot even harder into her hand before he bolted in the direction of Delilah. 

He’d just grabbed onto her and ducked out of the way as a bright green spell of promised death cracked the wall next to his head. 

Not a moment later the world warped around them, Delilah held closely to his chest looking like a corpse. 

  
  


**She** woke up gasping, clawing at her throat and her nails dug into her skin searching for the gash but there was none. 

Someone had healed her. 

Grass pricked at her body and she had to blink a few times before she took note of the stars above her.

Twinkling at her as if all was right in the world. 

The sound of crickets also met her ears as she slowly sat up, her head spinning as her mind struggled to piece together what had just happened. 

Bellatrix. 

God, was she dead again? 

Someone knelt down in front of her then and she screamed, her leg kicking out on instinct. 

Tom huffed out a pained breath and clutched at his side, glaring at her. 

“Merlin, Lilah-“

She shot forward, making them fall back as she crushed him in a hug. 

“You’re not dead,” she rasped out, face buried in the crook of his neck and eyes squeezed shut. 

Slowly, an arm wrapped around her and tightened, his other hand holding the back of her head and pulled her closer. 

“Neither are you.” There was a short pause. “I thought you… for a moment. There was a lot of blood.”

Delilah pulled her head back to look at him properly, blood still covering his face and it made his eyes stand out even in the dark. 

She kissed him, roughly. Teeth hitting his and it was messy but her mind was still in shambles and he was alive and she was too and they were okay for the time being. 

That’s all she could ask for. 

They were okay. 

She didn’t want to think about Bellatrix. Didn’t want to think about how she’d been near her. How she managed to hurt her all over again and render her useless. 

Didn’t want to think about how the trauma of those dreadful months still drowned her.

Tom’s hand slid down to the nape of her neck, deepening the action and didn’t seem bothered by the turn of events. 

Neither of them wanted to acknowledge the disaster that would be greeting them soon. 

Bellatrix would tell Voldemort she was alive. 

She shifted and he groaned out, pulling away and tugging on her lip in the process. “If you’d quit moving.”

Delilah closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against his, taking a shuddering breath. 

She didn’t want to think but she knew now was most definitely not the time. 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Tom bit his cheek as he looked up at her. 

“I will kill her.”

She managed a tired smile, “I don’t doubt it.”

“No,” he sat up, Delilah still straddling him. “I don’t think you understand, I will rip her spine out if I have to. Rib by rib.”

He had been so close tonight, but of course he didn’t have enough time. 

There was never any time. 

Delilah knew she should be concerned, at least some part of her should be. 

Instead she kissed him again. 

  
  
  


**When** they landed on the roof Hermione looked furious for only a moment before she took in how Tom and Delilah were covered in blood. 

“What-“

“It’s not mine.”

Hermione paled and looked to Delilah. 

“Not hers either.” 

She blinked a few times. “What the  _ hell _ happened? I’ve been sitting up here for over an hour freezing my arse off and Ron and Harry will be back at any moment.” 

Delilah took in a breath, the words coming out in a rush. “Bellatrix found us, Tom nearly killed her, and I’m pretty sure she’ll tell You-Know-Who…”

“But we got all the supplies,” Tom chimed, handing her the case. 

Hermione grabbed onto it numbly, staring at them and piecing together who’s blood he was covered in. 

“Does,” she swallowed dryly. “Did she recognize you?”

He shook his head, “only her. Which still presents a problem on its own.”

“Fuck,” Hermione said quietly. 

“My sentiments exactly.” 

She blinked a few times before shaking her head, Delilah could already see the gears turning behind her eyes. 

“I’ll find out how to tell Harry about all this. He needs to know, but hurry back before they get here.” 

As they made their way down the steps, she grabbed onto Tom’s arm. 

“I’ll stay with you tonight.” 

He pulled them to a stop, “I don’t think that’s for the best.”

Her brows furrowed. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Tom sighed out his nose, “you don’t want to stay where I’m being held.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Do they restrain you to the bed or something?”

He bit his cheek and her eyes narrowed. 

“Show me.”

“Delilah-“

“ _ Now _ .”

He sighed out again, as if she were being unreasonable before reluctantly leading them down the hall and along those narrow steps. 

She froze at the sight of the cell before whirling around. 

“Why in the ever living fuck did you not tell me you had been sleeping in a goddamn cage?” She was practically yelling, her voice echoing loudly in the closed room. 

Tom raised a brow at her and crossed his arms across his chest, “like it would’ve made a difference?”

Her eyes widened as her brows furrowed, looking at him incredulously. 

“Yes!”

“How? You’d ask nicely and they’d all the sudden let me sleep in bed?” 

“I could’ve at least tried.”

“That would be useless-“

“That’s not the fucking point!"

“What the hell is going on?” Harrison came down the steps, eyes flicking between his sister and Tom. Annoyance and confusion taking hold of his features. 

“Delilah what are you doing down here?”

“You complete cunt,” her insult was punctuated as she shoved her brother back. 

“You’ve had him down here? Sleeping on fucking mat? He doesn’t even have a fucking toilet!”

Harrison narrowed his eyes at her, shoving her back in return. “He’s been exactly where he should be.”

“He’s not an animal!”

“Are you kidding me? Are you forgetting who  _ he _ is?”

“What is going on?” 

Delilah’s blood churned at the sound of her mother’s voice and she laughed dryly, “oh god not you.” 

Her mother reached the bottom of the steps and caught sight of Delilah and Harrison, clearly in the middle of a fight. 

She crossed her arms, “well hello stranger.” 

“I’m not in the mood, mum.”

Her eyes narrowed, completely ignoring Tom. “You’ve been here for how many days now and not one hello? We thought you were dead and now you act like this? Do you realize how  _ selfish- _ “

Was she a terrible daughter? Probably. 

But she had had one hell of a day and she couldn’t stand to be in the room any longer. 

Her parents hardly spoke to her even before she got sent back in time. Not to mention all the times her mother had kicked her out of the house. 

The youngest she had been was nine when it first happened. 

Harrison never interfered.

“Fuck both of you.”

She grabbed onto Tom’s hand and began to pull him towards the door but her brother moved in front of her, eyes stern. 

“He’s not going anywhere.”

“Move.”

When he didn’t budge, her jaw clenched. A wordless runic spell ringing like a church bell in her head and Harrison suddenly got thrown to the side. 

Her mother yelling at her as she and Tom went up the stairs. 

She practically shoved him into the room she had been staying in, slamming the door behind her and locking it. 

Tom watched her carefully as she rambled angrily and paced, tearing her jacket off and throwing it carelessly on the floor. 

“I cannot believe you.”

He raised a brow and sat on the edge of the desk. “What did I do?” 

“You- you… why didn’t you fucking tell me? I’ve been in here sleeping soundly on a proper bed while you’ve been laying on the damn floor covered in dust.”

“I had to prove a point.” He said simply. 

Delilah laughed dryly and tugged off her shirt, also throwing it to the floor as she dug through one of the drawers for a nightie. 

“You and your fucking pride.”

“Delilah, I had to stay there for a few days to show I wouldn’t run. That I’d comply-“

“I don’t care.”

Just as she took off her pants and slipped on the thin cotton, she felt his hands at her sides and she paused, his front pressed against her back as he knelt his head down beside hers. 

“I’m fine. I can handle a few nights sleeping on a floor.”

Turning in his hold, she took note of how dried blood still clung to his skin like paint. 

“You should’ve told me. Even if I couldn’t change their minds.”

“And worry you?”

She snickered, “I’m still trying to grasp the notion you actually care about my well-being.”

Tom’s features warped into something more serious, his eyes focusing in on her. His hand danced up from her side to gently cup her throat, his thumb running along her bottom lip. 

“If you die I won’t hesitate to kill every last person who played a part or failed to help. You know that, right.”

She bit her cheek, her hand coming up to hold onto his wrist. 

“Killing every last person wouldn’t solve anything.”

“I don’t think I’d care.”

  
  


**Voldemort** looked down at Bellatrix as she was being healed, currently passed out as her bones, intestines, and lungs were fixed. 

Waiting.

His pale, spider like hands gripping the edge of the metal slab of a table she was currently on. 

The moment her eyes shot open his hand was around her throat. 

“Tell me,” he hissed. “Tell me what happened.”

Bellatrix was weaker than she’d ever been and she was enraged, feeling suddenly pathetic and hating how her Dark Lord was seeing her in such a state. 

A small part of her wishing she had died to save herself such an embarrassment. 

But she knew she was still alive for a reason. To serve him. To prove herself again. 

“That girl,” she rasped out, her throat feeling like gravel. 

“That Meddows girl is alive.”


End file.
